


Blackberry Tart

by starknjarvis



Series: Bruised Words [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Neglect, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Misunderstandings, Past Child Abuse, Severus adopts Harry fic, coparenting with your childhood nemesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknjarvis/pseuds/starknjarvis
Summary: One year after Severus Snape offered to become Harry's legal guardian, Sirius Black shows up at Hogwarts.
Relationships: Severus Snape & Harry Potter - Relationship, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Bruised Words [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913134
Comments: 132
Kudos: 1583
Collections: ariana's hp fic collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been three years since I wrote _Bruised Words_ , but the idea for the sequel would not leave me alone. Thank you to everyone who kept leaving reviews (and re-reading!) to encourage me to finally put fingers to keyboard for this.

Sirius Black was finally in front of him.

And Harry no longer wanted him dead.

It had been a bizarre evening, and was only getting stranger. Snape had intervened to get Buckbeak spared by the executioner—as Head of Slytherin, his delicate contradictions of Malfoy’s story were taken seriously. That hadn’t stopped Malfoy’s snide comments, or Hermione’s fist to the boy’s face. Then there had been Scabbers, and the black dog, and the Whomping Willow. Then an unbelievable tale from Sirius Black himself, and the arrival of Professor Lupin—who was, it seemed, a werewolf.

The last part had made several things clearer, including Snape’s insistence that Harry not go anywhere near Lupin’s office on the days around the full moon.

“Severus was very interested in where I went every month.” Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “We were in the same year, you know, and we — er — didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch field…”

Harry tried and failed to imagine Snape playing Quidditch. Other than the match earlier that year, when Snape had saved Harry when the dementors had attacked, he had never shown much interest in the sport at all. He had tested Harry’s new Firebolt within a breath of its life, but had not been remotely covetous in the broom—unlike everyone else who saw it.

“Anyway,” Lupin continued, “Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be — er — amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it — if he’d got as far as this house, he’d have met a fully grown werewolf — but your father, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was…”

“Black tried to send Snape in to get bitten by a werewolf?” Harry asked, horrified.

“That’s right,” sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Snape was pulling off Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing directly at Lupin.

“Are you all right, Potter? Granger, Weasley?”

“Ron’s leg is broken, but we’re all right,” Harry said. “How did you…?”

“You left your cloak outside,” Snape said. “And as Lupin has so kindly explained, I knew all along about the Shrieking Shack. Dumbledore told me I was wrong about you, Lupin. Thought you’d turned over a new leaf. But I knew… You were getting closer and closer to Harry, all for old friend. You thought no one would notice?”

Harry flushed. Snape had warned him about Lupin, but had not forbidden him from their lessons. Snape could have taught Harry the Patronus Charm, but Harry had been so eager to hear stories about his parents… But Snape had known them too, and had never told Harry about his own dad’s involvement in a trick to get Snape killed.

“Sirius is innocent,” Lupin protested. “I didn’t believe it until tonight. But it’s true.”

Snape laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” He raised his wand.

“Hold on,” Harry said, standing up.

Everyone stilled, looking over at Harry. Black and Lupin were close together, wandless but fierce. The rat was

He swallowed. “Hold on,” he repeated. “Snape, there’s something else going on here. I think Peter Pettigrew is still alive. We just need to do one spell. One spell, and we’ll know who let my parents get killed.”

Black laughed. “Harry, love, Severus Snape doesn’t listen to reason. I was dead the second he walked in here.”

“He will listen,” Harry said. “He will.”

“They’re manipulating you,” Snape said. “Bringing up your father. I thought you, at least, were better than this, Lupin.”

“Then let’s prove it,” Harry said. “We just need to cast a spell on Ron’s rat. It’s right here. We don’t have to fight, not yet.”

“My rat is not Peter Pettigrew,” Ron said, voice thick with pain.

“Your rat?” Snape asked, attention suddenly latching onto Ron.

“Snape, you told me not to do everything myself,” Harry said. The entire world seemed to be hanging on his words, and he did not know what to do. Who was telling the truth here? Who was looking for the truth, and who for revenge? He wouldn’t know if Snape stopped this final test. “You asked me to trust you. You told me that sometimes people would listen to me. Were you telling the truth?”

“I trust _you_ ,” Snape said.

“Then trust that there’s more you didn’t hear yet tonight,” Harry said. “Black’s story is… it’s a lot, but if it’s true, I need to know. Please.”

Snape stared at him for a long moment, and the room held its breath. His eyes were unreadable. Finally, he lowered his wand and nodded to Harry. “Very well.”

With a quick movement, Black had the wand from Snape’s free hand and was pointing it at his face. “Not so tough now, are you? Leave now, Severus, or you’ll be leaving here unconscious.”

“If you touch a hair on the boy’s head, the dementors will be the least of your worries,” Snape snarled, eyes glittering.

“Don’t hurt him, Black!” Harry said, taking a step forward. “Please. He deserves to be here for this. He’ll let you do the spell. He will. If you were telling the truth, let him see.”

“If he interrupts this, it could ruin everything,” Lupin said. “It’s a delicate spell.”

“He wants the truth as much as I do,” Harry said. “I swear. I trust him.”

“ _Why_?” It was a question repeated on every face in the room, though only Black had asked it. It was clear Black was itching to curse Snape.

“Because… because he’s my guardian,” Harry confessed.

“I knew it,” Hermioned hissed.

“Your what?” Ron demanded.

“ _Severus Snape_?” Black asked.

“Ah,” Lupin said thoughtfully.

“You knew it?” Ron asked, turning to Hermione. “You did not.”

“I thought there was something going on,” she said. “They’ve barely argued at all this semester, and when they did—well, Harry’s not the best actor. He might as well have had cue cards. Honestly, if you hadn’t been giving me the silent treatment for the past few months, maybe I would have pointed it out. Harry’s been leaving for the dungeons at least once every few days since summer break.”

“Bullshit,” Ron breathed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Harry said

Before they had returned to Hogwarts, Snape and Harry had sat at the kitchen table in Spinner’s End to discuss their plans.

It had been strange to sit there and work together after the start of Harry’s summer with Snape. At the beginning, there had been so much tension, so many things unsaid. Harry had entered each meal expecting a battle, and had not understood when he met only with mild annoyance at the worst. The kitchen had also been where Harry had finally snapped, shouting at Snape to stop toying with him. Snape had nudged and prodded until Harry had admitted some of the details of his life with the Dursleys. Instead of being met with derision or laughter, Snape had listened carefully and taken action to remove Harry from their care forever.

For the first days after that breaking point, Harry had continued to be unsettled around Snape. It seemed too easy, too good to be true. Professor Snape not only believing Harry, but offering to become his legal guardian.

In Harry’s experience, people didn’t just offer to take you on. The Dursleys had not wanted him, and he was their kin.

But even so, Snape had maintained the same consistency he had since Harry’s arrival. Providing regular meals, conducting thorough homework reviews, letting Harry fly within the wards, and cautiously—very cautiously, considering earlier incidents—letting Harry spend time in his greenhouse.

Overall, it was pleasant. Even with Harry’s lingering awkwardness, it was better than the summer Harry had first imagined.

He even thought, privately, it was a better summer than he might have had with the Weasleys. He loved Ron and Mrs. Weasley and everyone else, but the chaos of the house reminded him of the Gryffindor Common Room. Compared to the Dursleys, both had seemed the ultimate home.

But there was…peace at Snape’s house. Harry had never been so content in quietness with anyone, and it allowed him, by the end, to relax in a way he had never experienced before. There was no one to work for, no one to impress, no one to perform for. There was just the crackling fireplace, Snape reading his papers, and Harry quietly rereading a book about Quidditch history.

After settling into their truce, it had been unnerving to imagine their relationship with Hogwarts as a backdrop. Snape had carefully explained to Harry that it would be for the best if they were no public about the guardianship.

“Dumbledore has his reasons for me to maintain my connections with certain people who would want to take advantage of your presence in my home,” Snape had said. “They believe me to be on their side, and would not be able to understand any excuses I gave for not taking actions against you. Even if those people were not a lingering issue, there is the question of your general safety. We do not have the blood bond that gave you extra protection with your aunt and uncle—though we’ve discussed all the ways they failed you anyway. My home is warded, but I’d rather not risk a direct attack.”

“So I can’t tell anyone?”

“Did you want to tell people? I’d believed you might be…uncomfortable discussing the details with your friends.”

Harry wanted to argue, but he imagined Ron’s reaction. What could Harry say to explain why Snape was better than the Dursleys? Ron knew about the canned soup and barred windows from last summer, but he’d never really asked Harry for details. Would he understand Harry’s decision?

And Hermione—Harry didn’t want to think about her _Oh, Harry_ if she learned about the Dursleys. Her pity might be too much to take. Or worse, a dismissal. When Hermione said something, Harry tended to believe it.

Now, in the Shrieking Shack, Harry had wished he had told someone. On top of the toppling pile of secrets uncovered that night, his seemed like one too many.

“What the bloody hell has happened since I’ve been gone?” Black said.

“Mr. Black,” Harry said, and Black winced. Harry’s words seemed to have an effect on him, like Black was tuned to Harry more than anyone else in the room—except, perhaps, Lupin. “You said that you’re innocent. All you have to do is prove it. Don’t hurt anyone else, and you can walk out of here.”

Black tightened his grip on Snape’s wand. He looked from Harry to Lupin to Snape, and then finally to Ron. “All right,” he growled. “Hand over the rat.”

#

By the time the Aurors carried Pettigrew, with the dementors trailing hungrily behind, all of them were worse for wear. Lupin had forgotten to take his potion, and in the chaos trying to capture Pettigrew while avoiding being bitten by a feral werewolf, Black had been knocked unconscious, Hermione and Harry had been thrown across the grass and rocks, and Snape had stepped between Pettigrew and Harry to take the brunt of some nasty curse that left his hands still shaking.

“Five hospital beds, and a sixth for Professor Lupin in the morning,” Madame Pomfrey said, shaking her head. “I didn’t think your end of the year stunt could have more casualties than last year’s, Mr. Potter, but it seems I was wrong.”

“None of this was Potter’s fault, and I don’t need a hospital bed,” Severus said with icy softness.

Pomfrey was not cowed. “I have three witnesses that confirm you were hit by the Cruciatus Curse. You know as well as I do the nerve damage it can leave if untreated. You’ll be sitting down and letting me take a look at you as soon as I look at the more urgent injuries.”

She gave Ron a pain-numbing potion, and then revived Black. He lurched to consciousness, and then his eyes flew to Harry. “We got him,” Harry said. “It’s over. He confessed to the Aurors, and they’re going to give him the Kiss after they’ve interrogated him.”

“And you…?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said.

“The worst injury is the boy’s leg you broke,” Snape said, nodding toward Ron.

Black glowered at Snape. “It was an accident. I was going for Pettigrew.” Then, he looked at Ron. “Sorry, mate.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Ron was still pale, though whether it was because of the pain potion, his leg, or seeing his childhood pet turn into a mass murderer, Harry wasn’t sure. Ron hadn’t been looking much at Harry since it had all ended.

Harry leaned back in his bed, watching as Madame Pomfrey bustled around to treat everyone’s injuries. Harry and Hermione’s scrapes were not bad—barely even bleeding—so she skipped them in favor of going to Snape after she finished with Black and Ron. Ron was falling asleep, succumbing to the pain medicine, but Black seemed more energized than ever.

Black climbed out of his bed and loped toward Harry.

“Mr. Black,” Madame Pomfrey called from across the room, even as she ran a diagnostic spell over Snape. “If you damage that head again…”

He waved her off and sat on the edge of Harry’s bed. “You all right?” he asked. “Merlin, you really do look just like James. He and I ended up in here often enough.”

“You did?” Harry asked.

Black laughed. “The amount of scrapes we got into, we nearly lived here—until we learned how to start patching ourselves up,” he said. “Not just with Remus, either. We were always up to something. I’m sure Moony told you all of it.”

“Not really,” Harry said.

“Yeah, well,” Black said, and his expression fell. “I guess if he thought two of us were dead, and one of us responsible, he wouldn’t have thought those memories were so fun anymore. They kept me alive in Azkaban, and he probably wanted them out of his head.” He looked haunted, that laugh gone as if it had never crossed his face.

“Black,” Harry said tentatively.

“Sirius, please,” he interrupted. “I never liked being a Black, and it’d kill your parents to hear you call me by my last name.”

“Sirius,” Harry tried again. “Will you tell me about my dad sometime? Everyone seems so afraid to talk about him in much detail, but I want to know everything.” He shook his head. “I mean, I know you’ll be busy. You’ll have your life back.”

“I only wanted my life back to make sure you were safe,” Sirius said fiercely. “I’ll tell you everything. And… Well, you should know that your parents named me your godfather.”

“I know,” Harry said, confused.

“I, well… If you want to ditch Snivellus, you could come live with me. If you wanted.”

“Live with you?” Harry repeated.

“Your parents wanted me to look after you if anything ever happened to them. I know I’m late, but… What do you say?”

#

It was strange to be sitting in his quarters again with Harry after all that had happened last night. At the beginning of the year, he had given Harry the password to the living area of his private quarters. Kept separate from his bedroom and the suite that connected to the Slytherin Common Room, it had become a place for them to meet whenever Harry could slip away. They went over his homework, chatted about their days, ordered tea and sweets from the kitchens, and had stumbled into an eventual camaraderie neither had quite expected from the guardianship.

The space was far cozier than Severus’s office, as it should be—one was built to intimidate, one was built for comfort. The furnishings were far nicer than those in Spinner’s End, supplied by the castle and kept clean by the house-elves. In classic Slytherin House fashion, there was a lot of gray stone, dark brown leather, and rich greens. Severus wondered whether Muggles were as married to their school colors for the rest of their lives as it seemed Hogwarts graduates were.

Severus had once thought that working with Dumbledore was the price he had to pay for his part in the Potters’ deaths. But he had been wrong. He could never truly pay for what he had done to Lily and her husband, but he had realized that fighting to ensure their son was safe and healthy was a first step.

But he had discovered more than obligation and his malformed sense of justice driving him.

Over the past year, he had discovered a boy as clever and kind as he had begun to glimpse during their first summer together. Harry was fiercely loyal, and somehow, more quickly than Severus could have imagined, that loyalty had been handed to him.

Now, they sat in silence. Harry was looking down at his tea, and Severus was trying to maintain a blank expression. It had been barely twenty-four hours since everything either of them understood about the past—and the future—had been upended.

Sirius Black, innocent. Peter Pettigrew, alive. And so near. Lurking right under their noses. If Severus had paid better attention to Harry’s friends, might he have noticed? He had been so focused on Lupin’s attempts to draw Harry close that he had not noticed the only Marauder actually posing a threat.

If Pettigrew had gotten it into his foolish mind that killing Harry in his sleep would have been the safest option…

Severus sliced that thought off before it could grow. He would brood later. Harry was alive and in front of him, and they had a difficult conversation ahead.

He had listened carefully last night as Black had gone over to the boy in the Hospital Wing. Black had offered to take over as Harry’s guardian—and Harry had said only that he needed to think about it before deciding.

“There is only one week until the term ends,” Severus said. “I suppose we should talk about where you will go this summer.”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly.

“Black is your godfather,” Severus said, taking the plunge. “He has a legal right to fight for guardianship. But I won’t make him fight. This is your decision. Who…who do you want to be your guardian?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said softly.

“Right,” Severus said stiffly.

“I don’t know what to do. What to believe.” There was a glint in Harry’s eyes, but it was not the guilt of letting someone down gently. It was anger. “You lied to me. You didn’t tell me that Sirius was my parents’ friend.”

“We’ve already argued about this,” Severus pointed out, slightly pleading. When Harry had discovered the truth, he had done exactly as Severus and everyone had feared—he had wanted revenge on the man who they thought responsible for his parents’ deaths. And though Severus approved of the sentiment, he had refused to let Harry continue with that train of thought one station further.

“You also never told me about Lupin,” Harry said.

“That was not my secret to tell.”

“What about the fact my dad saved your life?”

“After he and Black put it in danger? Frankly, Harry, I thought to spare you from it. I did not believe your father came out well in that story.”

“Everyone tries to protect me, and no one ever does,” Harry snapped. “You told me to trust you. That you would listen to me, and tell me things, and not leave me in the dark like Dumbledore always did. How am I supposed to trust you lot when you keep lying to me?”

“I helped Hagrid’s hippogriff when you asked,” Severus pointed out. “I didn’t kill Black or Lupin that night.”

“No. You only followed me around.”

“I was trying to keep you safe.”

“One of Voldemort’s servants has been sleeping a bed away from me for years,” Harry said. “How am I supposed to believe anyone who says that anymore? How am I supposed to believe anyone?”

No one could blame the boy. When Severus was thirteen, would he have let some new adult sweep in to fix his life? Adults were not to be trusted. They could not understand what he’d gone through, and had never wanted to try.

It had been a miracle that Harry had agreed to let Severus be his guardian, but with the Dursleys as his alternative, Severus should not feel flattered. Being the boy’s escape from a horrible situation was one thing—asking him to trust Severus was quite another.

So much of Severus’s young adult life had been centered around tricking the right people into trusting him. First the Dark Lord. Then Dumbledore. And then the Dark Lord again, though this time with a larger secret.

After the fall of the Dark Lord, Severus had been able to put aside his masks for a while. The Death Eaters believed that he was still loyal, but reserved and isolated. He was not invited to dine with Lucius, not asked to conspire with Rookwood. They had never much liked him before, and did not need his presence now. Dumbledore trusted that he was dedicated to keeping the Dark Lord at bay. His students and colleagues only needed to trust that he expected the best from his classes.

He did not want to trick Harry into trusting him. For once, he wanted to earn it. The boy had been used and manipulated every day of his life, and Severus had no interest in wearing a mask in his own home.

Severus sighed. “I’m sorry. Will you let me try again?”

Harry looked at him with those familiar eyes, full of that unfamiliar caution. Lily, with her doting parents and dedicated friends, had never worried that she would be left to hang. “You said you wouldn’t fight Sirius if he wanted me. Don’t offer to keep me just because you think you have to. Last summer, there wasn’t a second option for me.”

“Ah, you believe I’ll take this as an out,” Severus said.

“You were my guardian for a year. You’ve seen what it’s like around me,” Harry said. “And you’ve, ah, well, I’ve yelled at you a lot.”

“What is it like around you? You were assaulted by dementors no less than three different times,” Severus said. “You were stalked by an escaped prisoner, only to discover that the true murderer was sleeping in your dormitory. You learned that your parents were betrayed by one of their dearest friends, and were upset by that news. Have I summarized everything?”

“And, uh, also Buckbeak,” Harry muttered, looking subdued.

“Oh, yes, and you requested that I step in to stop the unjust extermination of a noble creature,” Severus said.

Harry frowned, seeming to finally realize Severus wasn’t agreeing with him. “Most people would be scared off by that stuff,” he pointed out.

“I’ve dealt with far worse than watching a brave young man trying his best to survive against terrible odds,” Severus said. “I’ve done many things I regret. Aiding you in any way will never be one of them. This may be the only good thing I’ve done in my life.”

“Then why did you say…”

“I’m not your captor,” Severus said. “If you choose Black, that’s a decision you’re permitted to make. We’ve spent far more time than needed explaining why someone would be lucky to be your guardian. We have not addressed the very obvious fact that I am ill-qualified for this position.”

“You’ve been brilliant. You let me come in here even though we’re at school,” he said fiercely, waving to the room around them, “you helped with Buckbeak, you _listened_ last night about Sirius even though you didn’t want to, you…” He faltered, clearly torn between embarrassment and protectiveness. Finally, he said, “You cared.”

“I hate to admit it, but Black would certainly care as well. I believe him to be dangerously immature, but his loyalty to your father was insurmountable—as we confirmed last night. Few men could escape Azkaban, and he did so for your sake. I’m certain that would only be the beginning.” Severus shook his head. “Do not question that we both would like to be your guardian. Your only task is to determine who you _want_ it to be.”

#

“Are you going to explain yourself?” McGonagall asked, sitting down across from Severus.

He looked up at her. They were in the teacher’s lounge, which was a well-concealed room off the Great Hall. The house-elves provided a steady stream of snacks to a long table, and there were several scattered tables and couches for both meetings and independent work.

He was working his way through the Daily Prophet. The front page, even three days later, was an expose on Peter Pettigrew. After the wizarding world mourned his death, they were all the more eager to loathe him for deceiving them.

“Are you going to clarify your question?” he asked, setting down the paper.

“Do I really have to?” She crunched on a ginger biscuit, raising her eyebrows at him. “You know that Sirius Black is staying in Remus’s quarters. And that he and I have been talking. He had quite a lot to say about your recent activities.”

“He never did know when to stop talking.”

Minerva waited a moment, and then sighed. “Merlin,” she said. “Let me phrase it simply: did you adopt Harry Potter?”

“Really, Minerva? You’re going to accost me while I’m working, where anyone could overhear, to ask something like that? It sounds like a very personal question.”

She gave him an unamused look. “You know full well that I waited until we were alone. It’s rare enough to find you here, and I’m not going to waste it. Once summer arrives, I’m sure you’ll find yourself suddenly unable to answer a single owl or Floo call from your colleagues. If I want answers—and I do—this is my chance.”

“You know me well enough to track my leisure habits, but I know you well enough to be sure you’ve already checked Potter’s records before coming to me at all.”

“The Ministry has no record I can find of a change in guardianship for the boy,” McGonagall said.

“However…?”

“However, the Hogwarts records have been altered to show you as his guardian and emergency contact,” she said. “So either you, Potter, and Albus are conducting an elaborate prank on me—and on Sirius—or you have indeed taken guardianship of the boy.”

“I have to appreciate that the idea of prank even crossed your mind,” Severus said. “You’ve been the Head of Gryffindor for entirely too long.”

“They keep me young,” she said dryly, tapping her biscuit against her plate. “So it’s true. How in Merlin’s name did this come about? I’m not surprised by the secrecy—I know you and Potter well enough to see the logic behind it—but the fact itself is baffling beyond reason.”

“Harry was in the market for a new guardian, and I volunteered,” Severus said.

“You can’t be serious. The last I checked, the two of you hated each other as much as any child and allegedly responsible adult might.”

The dig hit. Severus had maintained an aggressive grudge for several years against a child in his care, like he was no better than a schoolboy himself. In talking to Harry, they had discussed his various decisions not to turn to Minerva or Albus for help in trying moments, but the idea that Harry would have ever asked Severus for help would never have crossed either of their minds. Before last summer, Severus would have been the last person alive Harry would have relied upon.

“We…adjusted our perspectives,” Severus said carefully.

“I did tell you that you had been allowing your past to cloud your judgement. He’s a good boy—smart, brave, though he could be a bit more dedicated to his schoolwork. He’s only ever had the best intentions. Was it to do with Sirius’s escape before you knew he was innocent? That was my first thought, before Sirius loudly complained that you hadn’t immediately thrown guardianship back to him.”

“It is very classic of Black to break out of prison without even knowing who the current Minister of Magic is and assuming he could adopt a child.”

“Then how did this come about? Why was Potter was in the market for a new guardian?”

“Now that I truly cannot tell you,” Severus said.

“I do hope that aunt and uncle of his kicked it,” Minerva said bluntly.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. “You were acquainted?”

“Only at a distance. I was responsible for monitoring the house on November 1st that year to be sure they were not compromised before we could bring Harry to their doorstep. A nasty pair.”

It took effort for Severus to hold his tongue. He wanted to rail against her—she dared claim protectiveness of the boy, but had never once bothered to check and see how he had fared with people she had hated on sight? Had she been so confident in Dumbledore’s choice that she put it from her mind, or did she simply not think of it again? Out of sight and out of mind?

But to lash out at her would be betraying the first secret Harry had asked him to keep. Harry did not want her to know what the Dursleys had done, and Severus would not destroy their carefully tended relationship to lambast a woman too fool to follow her own instincts.

“Interesting,” he said finally.

“Well?” she asked, leaning in. “What’s the story?”

“That is not your concern,” Severus said. “Harry’s personal life is not your business, and neither is mine. Dumbledore gave this situation his blessing, and I ask you to accept that.”

“I’m his Head of House!” she said.

“I am your colleague, but in this case, I am his legal guardian. You can expect no more access here than you might have with any student,” Severus said.

She bristled with indignation. “Severus, you can’t be serious. You act as though I’m some gossipmonger instead of a person quite in charge of his wellbeing!”

“Are you this invested in the parental situations of all your Gryffindors? Or is it because this is the Boy Who Lived?”

“I’ll have you know that I have always cared for the boy.”

“Does he know that?” When she faltered, he found a slightly softer tone. “Minerva, how much of the boy’s life has been under public scrutiny? Especially with the news about Pettigrew. The world is rehashing the tragic deaths of his parents in every paper. Perhaps he can, finally, have one thing that is private.”

“Very well,” she said, standing up. From the white around her nostrils, she was still furious. “I suppose I should not have expected more from you. I hope you are able to be more human with Potter.”

“Again, you’ll find that is up to me,” Severus said.

She stalked from the teachers’ lounge, leaving her plate of biscuits behind. Severus sighed and picked up the newspaper again. That had gone worse than expected, but his point had been made. Surely Minerva would leave it at that.

#

“All right, that’s enough for today,” McGonagall announced. “Thomas, please desist. That poor parrot has been through enough today without you poking its eye with your wand.”

Dean, who had been leaning close to try to complete the transfiguration of the day, winced and pulled back.

“Please read the assigned pages before our next class. Friday is our last day of the semester, and I expect to see more people than Miss Granger turn their birds into vases by the end. Class is dismissed,” McGonagall said. “Mr. Potter—stay back for a moment. I need a quick word on your final grade.”

Ron gave Harry a conciliatory look, but gathered Hermione and left with the rest of the class.

“I won’t keep you from your lunch for too long,” McGonagall declared, waving Harry toward her desk at the front of the room.

Harry stepped through the aisles, narrowly avoiding a peck from Dean’s irate parrot. He hovered in front of her desk, dreading the conversation. It was rarely a good thing for McGonagall to pull someone aside. “Yes, professor?”

She adjusted her glasses and looked at him closely. “How are you doing, Potter?”

“Er,” he said. “All right?”

“Considering the little I know of the situation, that seems unlikely. Pettigrew hiding in my own House. A godfather back from near-dead. And I’ve just learned that you have a new guardian.”

“You, er, heard about that?” After the year without anyone catching on, Harry should have known it couldn’t last forever.

“Severus won’t tell me anything except confirming that it’s true,” she said. “He can keep a secret better than any man I’ve ever met. In general, it’s a useful trait, but he can be… well, frankly Mr. Potter, he can be such a Slytherin at times.”

Harry was blinded by relief for a moment. He hadn’t told her Harry’s secrets. Considering his first reaction to hearing Harry’s confessions had been to summon Dumbledore, Harry hadn’t been quite sure how much to believe Snape’s agreement not to tell McGonagall as well. Snape had the tendency to assume he knew best, and Harry had feared the news would spread throughout the Hogwarts staff before the end.

He didn’t know how they’d react, and that was the worst part of it. He barely knew what to think of the Dursleys. He didn’t want to see them again. Snape said he hadn’t deserved any of it. But he did not know what McGonagall would say. Would she pity him? Be disappointed in him? Accuse him of overreacting?

And what of Professor Lupin? Or Sirius Black?

“And I can see from your face that you have no interest in telling me either,” she said with a sigh. “Answer me this, Mr. Potter. Are you happy to have Severus as your guardian?”

“I am,” Harry said cautiously.

“I don’t need Severus or you to give me details to know that something happened to you. I’m quite certain you didn’t wake up one day and decide you wanted Severus as your guardian. I’m sure there was quite the trouble that landed you in his path in the first place.” She held up a hand. “That’s not the question I want you to answer. Severus was quite firm about keeping your secrets, and seeing you… I understand what he meant. It’s only this.”

Harry waited anxiously.

“Whether it started last year or this summer or this week, if you were having troubles, why didn’t you come to me? This is what your House is here for, Mr. Potter. Your prefects, the Head Boy and Girl, myself. We’re not just here to institute rules for you to break,” she said. “We’re here to support you. Did you not know you could ask one of us—anytime—for help?”

“It wasn’t… The reason I went to Snape, it wasn’t a school issue,” Harry said.

“You live at Hogwarts more months of the year than you don’t,” McGonagall said. “We’re to help you with more than your grades.”

Harry felt uneasy. The lunch hour was ticking on, and his friends would be wondering why McGonagall had kept him. Her eyes were sharp, but her expression seemed to be trying to convey something he couldn’t understand. What did she want from him? “I didn’t want to bother anyone with it,” he said at last.

“I see,” she said softly. “Did you know, Mr. Potter, that Mr. Black is terrified of you?”

“What?”

“I used to be his Head of House too, you know,” McGonagall said. “He’s been waiting for the right moment to ask you to Professor Lupin’s quarters for a private dinner, but he’s afraid Professor Snape has turned you against him. He’s sure that there must be something to why you didn’t accept his offer instantly. The longer you make him wait for an answer, the more sure he is that Professor Snape has convinced you he is some monster.”

“Have they always hated each other so much?” Harry asked.

“Rather like you and Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall agreed. “I won’t stick my nose into it any further. This is your decision. Just know that you have more people who care about you than you realize. If you need anything, Mr. Potter, my door is always open. Whether it’s about school or your guardians. Or anything else.”

“Thanks.”

She waited for a long moment, and then waved a hand. “Go on, then. Lunch is waiting.”

#

There was one day left of the semester, and Harry still had not told anyone his decision.

He had spent more evenings in Snape’s rooms, but Snape had not pushed him for an answer. But even though they were carrying on as usual, he was waiting. They both were. Harry had never dealt with a dilemma like this before.

Being wanted.

When the door opened to Professor Lupin’s quarters, Harry had to remind himself that he’d survived dementors and Quirrell and Voldemort and a basilisk. He could do this.

“Harry,” Sirius greeted him. Unlike Snape, he wore his heart on his sleeve. Relief, delight, anxiety—they were all written on his face. “Come on in, please.”

Professor Lupin’s quarters were similar to Snape’s, if more generic. He had not had as much time to settle into them yet, though Harry spotted several Defense books stacked on various tables.

Nearly bouncing with anticipation, Sirius led him to a study. There was a fireplace and bookshelves, but the center of the room had been turned into a dining room. “I transfigured the side table and armchairs,” Sirius said. “I’ll put them back to rights before Remus comes back.”

Harry sat down—the chair was more plush than usual, and the wood grain on the table was strangely enlarged.

“Remus left to give us some space, even though these are his quarters. I’m just staying here until the semester ends, you know. I have a house, my family’ house, but Dumbledore is making sure it’s safe to move into.”

“Safe?” Harry repeated, trying to follow the conversation. Sirius was rambling.

“It’s a long story. Besides, there are some legal issues to untangle. The Ministry’s mistake has become very public now that Peter has been arrested, but all their formal apologizing hasn’t made the process of legally clearing my name any faster. Dumbledore is leaning on them, but they don’t like admitting they were wrong. Oh, dinner!”

The house-elves, possibly taking pity on them, had sent up the first course.

“Dumbledore offered me a seat at the Head Table this week, as long as I’m staying here, but it seemed weird. Everyone would be staring, and besides, it’s strange enough to think of Moony as a teacher. I don’t need to remember that I’m as ancient as him. Dig in. If you have an appetite like your dad, I’m sure you’re starving. Or your mum, to be honest.”

For a moment, they stared at each other over the length of the table. Words had finally seemed to fail Sirius.

This man had been best friends with Harry’s parents. In another life, before Azkaban, he’d eaten meals with them.

Now, he was clumsily trying to talk to their son, who had never known them or him.

“Could you tell me about them?” Harry asked.

As they ate and talked, the awkwardness of the situation finally slipped away. Harry could not help but hang on Sirius’s every word. Lupin had told Harry some stories, but they were carefully selected. For Lupin, there was only tragedy at the end: three deaths and a traitor. But it was clear that to Sirius, the stories were a source of joy. He mentioned Pettigrew only once, and then flinched away, but it was clear that the memories of his Moony and Prongs made up for the ending of the tale. Everyone else talked about Harry’s parents like they were untouchable, like they were heroes—Sirius made them seem real for the first time since Harry had glimpsed them in the Mirror.

Once he relaxed, Harry realized that Sirius was funny. And _cool_. It reminded Harry of talking to Bill, only Sirius seemed as interested in listening to Harry as Harry was in listening to him.

“I used to have a flying motorbike, you know. I’ll track it down, take you on a ride. Hopefully Hagrid didn’t sell it for a dragon.”

“No, he won a dragon in a card game,” Harry said.

Sirius’s eyes lit up. “Now that sounds like a story.”

They talked long after their dessert plates were licked clean—literally in Sirius’s case. “Dog habits die hard,” he said with a wink. Harry had never talked so long with an adult who wasn’t also his teacher apart from Hagrid. Sirius treated Harry like someone he wanted to talk to, someone he was curious to know.

“You know,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. He’d conjured a glass of dark wine, and was sipping from it leisurely. “I wasn’t sure you’d come see me before the end of the semester. I thought maybe you’d decided it was all too much to deal with. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“I had to think,” Harry said. “I didn’t want to bother you before I had an answer.”

Sirius frowned. “You’re not a bother, Harry,” he said.

Could Sirius really be as nervous for this conversation as Harry was? “McGonagall said that you were, er, scared of me.”

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “She would tell you that, wouldn’t she? Don’t let the dignified demeanor fool you, Harry. She’s got a nose for gossip, and an inability to mind her own business. She still thinks of me as a kid. To be fair, the last time she saw me I still was.”

How much older than Sirius, Lupin, and Snape was McGonagall? Teachers were teachers to Harry, but McGonagall had said she was Head of House in their time as well.

Harry remembered, suddenly, that his parents had only been twenty-one when they had been killed. It was a far-off age, in the realm of the adulthood, but surely still young to McGonagall.

“Why? Were you scared, I mean.”

“Other than the fact I only had one week to prove to my best mate’s son that I was worth bothering with?” Sirius asked. He sighed. “I thought you were living with your aunt and uncle. From what I remember about Lily’s stories of Petunia, I thought I had a chance to convince you to pick me. But you weren’t what I expected.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not like—look, James would never have volunteered to become a Snape, you know? So I was worried we wouldn’t actually have much in common. But Remus has been telling me all about you. I don’t understand how this whole thing with Snape happened, but you’re James and Lily’s kid. I wouldn’t care if you were a Slytherin. Well, maybe a little bit, but then you’d just need me around even more.” He ran a hand through his hair. It had been trimmed at some point in the last week, no longer the straggly mess it had been.

The Sorting Hat had tried to put Harry into Slytherin. How disappointed would his parents’ old friends have been with him if Hagrid hadn’t warned him away from it? How disappointed would his parents have been?

“Hell, Remus thought you and Snape had your own rivalry going on. Apparently there were a lot of stories,” Sirius added.

“We did,” Harry admitted. “But last summer—well, I ended up staying with him, and he wasn’t what I thought. Not at all.”

“So you, uh, like staying with him?”

“I… I do. We’ve gotten to know each other even more this last year.” It felt weird to defend Snape to this stranger, as much as Harry was desperate for Sirius to like him. “Snape’s been helping me.”

“I feel like I’m not going to like this conversation,” Sirius said. He laughed, but it sounded uncertain. “Just know I might hold a grudge if you don’t pick me, just for the sake of my ego. I’ve never lost to Severus Snape in my entire life.”

“Well…” Harry said. This was even harder than he’d thought it would be.

“You’re really picking him, aren’t you?” Sirius murmured, staring into his wine. “Merlin.” He swallowed the rest of the wine in a large gulp.

“Look,” Harry said, “it was a hard choice, okay? I’ve never had to do something like this. But Snape has my back, and I’ve never had that before. I can’t just throw that away because you showed up.”

“Right,” Sirius said. His energy and cheer had disappeared, leaving behind brooding quiet.

“I still want to hear more about my parents. I’ve really liked talking to Lupin this year. He’s a good professor, but he also was able to tell me about them. I think they’d want me to know you both. If you wanted, we could still see each other.”

“Are you sure Snivellus will let you visit?” Sirius asked cattily.

“I… It’s not like anyone is making you keep talking to me,” Harry said. His face felt hot. Snape and McGonagall had been so sure that Sirius cared about him, insisted that he wanted Harry. He’d have to thank them for letting him make a fool out of himself to his dad’s best mate. “If you’re mad at me, we could just. Not see each other again. I don’t need you.”

Sirius looked like he’d been slapped. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Harry said. “I’m not looking to be a burden on anyone.”

“A Potter could never be a burden on me,” Sirius said. “But how could you know that? I’m just a stranger who nearly got you and your friends killed.” He sighed and rubbed at his chest. Harry wondered if he was remembering the dementors—they had made Harry’s chest feel cold and empty in that same spot. “And I’m sure Snape has been telling you all the reasons why you should hate me.”

“He hasn’t,” Harry insisted. “And that’s partly why I decided to stay with him. He can seem overbearing, but he wants me to live the life I want, not the one everyone expects from me. When everyone else was looking at how to get what they wanted, he worried about whether I was okay. Even if it meant work for him. Even when he didn’t like me. That’s what a guardian is supposed to do, aren’t they?”

Harry took a shaky breath. Sirius was looking at him with an unreadable expression. He wasn’t hiding his emotions—there were just too many to parse.

“I used to think my parents would want me to look after myself. Everyone talked about how brave they were, and it’s not like my aunt and uncle cared about me. But I trust Snape. I wouldn’t have believed it either, but it’s true. You don’t know me. You can’t understand what that’s like for me,” Harry said. “I thought you’d maybe be happy for me. But if you’re not, if my parents wouldn’t be, then… I still have to do what’s right for me. Don’t I?”

“Oh, Merlin, please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Harry said, lying.

In a flash, Sirius had moved from his seat across the table to kneeling beside Harry’s chair.

Harry clenched his teeth, trying to wrangle himself under control. He couldn’t lose it in front of his dad’s best mate. God, he just wanted Sirius to like him. Why did he have to pick between that and keeping the strange stability he’d built with Snape? For once, Harry was wanted, and it was tearing him in two.

“Hey, look at me,” Sirius said quietly.

Harry swiped at his face, nearly knocking his glasses askew, and finally met Sirius’s eyes.

Sirius swore. “I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I? Harry, all I’ve ever wanted from the moment Lily told me she was pregnant was for you to be happy. That’s all I want. You’re not getting rid of me.” Sirius nodded to himself. “You’re not getting rid of me. Even if Snape convinces you I’m an idiot—which maybe I am. I can be a stubborn bastard, you know, and as your godfather it’s my right to bully my way into your life. If I’m being a dick, call me out, but don’t say that you never want to see me again. I’m going to make this work. I don’t care if it’s Salazar Slytherin himself who’s your guardian.”

Harry felt bowled over. “Okay,” he said.

Sirius reached up and grasped Harry’s shoulders. He stared at Harry’s face, the features so many people had told Harry were just like his parents. “James and Lily would be so proud of you. You’ve done more than any kid should have at your age. And they’d both get a kick out of you putting me in my place. Of course I want you to be happy, kid. Of course I do.”

#

If anyone asked, Severus was absolutely not lingering in his quarters long after he was ready to sleep, waiting to see if Harry would come by after his planned dinner with Black. He had been cagey when telling Severus about his plans. Of course he had been. The boy was not non-confrontational by any means, but he was still adjusting to the concept of a healthy adult authority figure in his life.

Harry would almost certainly make this more awkward than it needed to be. As soon as he was sure that Black was not going to laugh in his face and take back his offer, Harry would try to find a delicate way to explain his choice to Severus.

Imagine, a thirteen-year-old boy fearing hurting the feelings of a man twenty years his senior. It was absurd.

Severus had met Harry’s worst expectations for the first two years of their acquaintance. This was one final chance he had to prove to Harry that even when delivering a rejection, Severus could remain the adult in the situation. He would not make Harry feel any worse about the decision than he surely already did.

Once, Severus might have thought Harry would spend the evening laughing with Black about Severus. The fear hadn’t disappeared entirely—Black’s presence would always have an effect on Severus’s composure—but he knew Harry too well to truly believe it.

He had a book open, but he had not read a word of it in the past quarter hour.

Just when Severus was prepared to accept Harry was not coming by that evening, the portrait creaked open. Harry slipped inside carefully.

“Good evening,” Severus said.

“Can I come in?”

“We’ve discussed this. You have the password for a reason. These rooms are yours to use.” Severus would be sure Harry knew that offer was still open when the next semester started. After all, it would be…strange to do his work without the boy’s quiet presence, even if he was no longer Harry’s guardian. Theirs was an unusual circumstance, and Severus was sure Albus would approve of a continued mentorship.

Unless Harry chose to spend all his time with Lupin. Lupin would probably have Black over every other weekend.

Harry sat down, and Severus’s eyes narrowed. It was late and the fire was growing low—a deliberate technique from the house-elves to encourage people to head to bed—but he could see the splotches on Harry’s cheeks. He had been crying. “What happened?” Severus demanded. “What did Black do?”

“Nothing,” Harry said. “I’m fine.”

Severus gave him a level stare. He had promised Harry that he would not force him to reveal his secrets, but Severus did not appreciate being lied to.

Harry scrubbed his face. “Really, it’s fine. I’m fine. It was just a hard conversation. It was a lot for both of us, I think.”

“Did he…not react how you had hoped?” Severus had expected manly hugging and possibly matching stick-and-poke tattoos.

“Not exactly,” Harry admitted.

“Did he change his mind?” Severus asked, careful to keep his fury from his voice. That immature fool. It was so very Black to offer a lifelong commitment on a whim and then take it back once it became real.

“Uh, no,” Harry said. “I told him I wanted to stay with you.”

Severus was quiet for a moment. The swell of emotion was difficult to parse, and he felt as though he had stepped onto a false stair.

“Unless you—”

Severus held up a hand. “If you finish that sentence with another attempt to make me rescind my offer, I’m going to make you do lines.”

“What?” Harry squawked, surprised out of his discomfort.

“Four hundred, I think. Perhaps ‘I will not presume everyone who professes to care for me is lying.’”

“Hey, now, hold on—”

“You truly told him you wished to stay with me?” Severus asked suddenly.

“I, yeah,” Harry said. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, “I still want to get to know Sirius. He invited me to visit a week or two during the summer. But you’re my guardian. I know it started weird, and that you only offered to help me get away from the Dursleys. I didn’t know it would be like this. That it could be like…”

“Like what?” Severus prompted.

“Like having a parent,” Harry said finally. “I know that’s not what this is, but I… I finally get what Ron and Hermione mean when they talk about theirs. Someone to rely on. I never thought I’d have that. I don’t want to throw that away.”

What had Severus done to earn this boy’s loyalty? He had been abused for years, ignored and neglected and oppressed. Severus had done nothing to help until it was nearly too late. Severus did not bake cookies or play catch. He gave advice, listened to Harry’s stories, learned to appreciate the boy’s wit, and—often—simply shared space with him.

It was what someone else should have done. His aunt and uncle should have appreciated him. Minvera should have seen the signs. The Weasleys should have made room for him. There had been a dozen opportunities for someone else to earn the right to provide stability to Harry.

But no one else had.

Let Sirius Black whine and moan all he wanted. Harry had made his decision, and Severus was far too Slytherin to step away and let a lesser man take over.

#

It was strange to take the Hogwarts Express back to London when he and Snape could have Flooed to Spinner’s End from Hogsmeade. On the way to Hogwarts in the fall, Snape had dropped Harry off at King’s Cross so Harry could make the journey with his friends while Snape himself had declared he’d had too much of the train for one lifetime.

When Harry had arrived at Hogwarts, still pale and shaking from the dementors, Snape had announced that he’d suddenly changed his mind and would be riding the train with the students from then on.

Harry wished that Snape had just let him take the Floo when they boarded the train and Ron opted to sit in another car with Dean and Seamus.

Ron had been giving Harry the silent treatment since the night under the Whomping Willow. At first, Harry had thought Ron was recovering from his broken leg, but Madame Pomfrey had taken it out of its cast after three days.

When Ron shuffled along to the next car, ears red and not looking at Harry or Hermione, Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him into another car. Neville was inside, talking quietly to his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. He nodded to them in greeting.

“Harry, you know how Ron is,” Hermione said. “He’ll get over it.”

“He didn’t talk to you for months!” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, well, he’s gotten over that,” Hermione said. “It’s obvious Crookshanks really didn’t kill Pettigrew, though I almost wish she had. But then Sirius would still be a wanted man.”

Harry didn’t want to talk about Sirius either. “Yeah, but the thing Ron is mad at me about is true,” he pointed out.

“Still,” she said. “He’ll realize you’re still you. You just have to give him some time.”

“And you’re not mad?” Harry confirmed.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said. “I told you, I figured it out ages ago. Even if I hadn’t noticed you seemed more happy because of it, I would have forgiven him as soon as he helped save Buckbeak. If anything proves he’s changed for you, it’s that.”

For the rest of the ride in, Hermione began reading a fourth-level Charms textbook while Harry stared out the window. The dementors were long-gone, and the sky was a clear blue outside. Still, it wasn’t the train ride he’d hoped it would be.

At the station, Harry unloaded his trunk and Hedwig’s cage, and scanned the crowd for Snape. Hermione’s parents were beyond in the Muggle section of the station, so she gave him a hug and promised to write that summer before scampering off.

Really, Harry and Snape should have talked about this part before they’d boarded the train. With Harry’s luck, he’d end up lost in London.

A nondescript man with a bland face and a low brown ponytail came to stand alongside Harry. Harry glanced up at him, worried the schoolyear had one more adventure in store. “Polyjuice Potion,” Snape’s voice said from the unfamiliar face. “I believe you’re aware of its effects.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Harry said neutrally, and Snape snorted. Maybe he had noticed the lacewing flies disappearing last year.

“The hair is from a French colleague of mine who doesn’t mind muddying the waters about his exact location. I thought people would notice if I picked you up from the station,” Snape said. “We’re not ready to be quite so public about this.”

Harry nodded and then jumped when a voice shouted his name. “Harry! Oh, Harry, there you are. Ron thought you’d already left.”

Molly Weasley bustled up, all of her children in tow. Ron was sulking behind her, still not looking at Harry. The twins had already changed out of their school robes into something patched together and utterly flamboyant. They’d draw stares in King’s Cross, which might have been their intention. If anyone was going to violate the Statute of Secrecy for fun, it was Ron’s brothers.

“Good, good, I wanted to check in on you, Harry. It’s been quite the year you’ve had. Sirius Black back—and innocent! I always knew. He was a good kid, came into Hogwarts during my seventh year. I knew he wouldn’t… Well, anyway. I assume this is…” She glanced at Harry’s companion and whispered, “Professor Snape?”

Snape nodded once.

Behind her, Ron looked repulsed.

“Dumbledore told us the situation,” Molly assured them. “He let the Order know. Half their business now is keeping Harry safe anyway, and people would be wondering why Arabella wasn’t reporting anymore.”

“Arabella as in…?”

Harry was cut off by Molly waving a hand and continuing, “I’m throwing a party to welcome Sirius back. I wanted to do it right away, but Remus says the poor man needs some rest. We’re going to have it at the end of June. You’ll come, won’t you, Harry?”

“Of course,” Harry said. It would be a chance to prove to Sirius that Harry wasn’t letting Snape scare him off getting to know him.

“Professor, you’re invited as well, of course,” Molly said.

“I must decline.” It was odd to see this stranger wearing Snape’s perfectly blank expression.

“Well, if you change you mind, you’re always welcome,” Molly said. “I suppose that’s it. I need to get the kids back. Arthur had to work today, or he’d be helping me wrangle everyone. We’re taking a Portkey with the Lovegoods to a nearby town to get out of London proper, and we’ll need to hurry to catch it.” She gave Harry a smacking kiss on the cheek, and then bustled away with her kids.

The twins waved to Harry and Ginny gave him a small nod, but Ron just walked away.

Harry watched them go until Snape’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Come on,” Severus said. “We’ll Apparate outside my wards.”

#

Severus thought that, perhaps, there would be an adjustment period to living together full-time at Spinner’s End again. At Hogwarts, Harry could come by Severus’s quarters when he was feeling an urge for his companionship, and spend the rest of his time with his friends.

Though last summer they had found their own rhythm after Harry’s revelations about the Dursleys, Severus feared it would not be so easy now.

Then, Harry was still so bewildered to find himself free from his aunt and uncle that he had looked at Severus with something alarmingly close to hero worship. After their neglect, Severus’s most basic sense of humanity had seemed revolutionary. It showed more than anything Harry’s refusal to nurse a grudge.

They were both aware that until that summer, Severus had received too much pleasure in tormenting Harry and his classmates. For the first two years of Harry’s schooling at Hogwarts, Severus had believed himself back in his own schooldays, with James Potter Jr. on a mission to defy and destroy him. He had, with an astounding lack of awareness for any of the players involved, seen his treatment of Harry as some sort of cosmic balancing.

Severus had worked for the past year to treat Harry as _Harry_ —a thirteen-year-old with the weight of the world on his shoulders since birth. A boy who had been neglected and beaten by his guardians, mocked by his teachers—namely Severus himself, hunted by the worst murderers and maniacs the world had known.

And Harry, with an easy forgiveness Severus could not have found in himself at any cost, had moved past Severus’s years of trespasses.

For most of the day, Severus worked in his lab while Harry entertained himself. He flew around the small grounds, avoiding the wards, wrote and received long letters, and—at Severus’s prompting—got a head start on his homework.

They ate three meals a day together in the kitchen. After last summer, Severus made a point to watch that Harry was getting enough food.

“I can cook sometimes,” Harry said over breakfast one morning.

“I’ve told you that you don’t need to cook here,” Severus said.

Harry poked at his eggs. “It’s just… Well, I prefer my eggs a bit less _cooked_.”

Severus frowned down at his own plate. They did look a bit rubbery. “You believe you can do better?”

“Definitely,” Harry said firmly.

“Well,” Severus said carefully, “if you would like to cook…”

“Oh, thank God,” Harry said.

For lunch, Harry cooked seared salmon and mashed potatoes. The smells floated down to Severus’s lab, and he emerged with a growling stomach.

“What is this?” Severus asked, poking at a piece of green on the fish. He had, after all, been Harry’s Potions Master for three years, and had a valid fear of the boy’s work.

“Dill,” Harry said, already eating his own plate with clear satisfaction. “The herbs in your garden are good for more than potions.”

Severus took a bite and hummed with surprise. It was delicious, and Harry’s smugness was palpable for the rest of the meal. They ended up coming up with a split schedule for their meals—Severus refused to let Harry take on all the work, despite his clear skill. Harry grumbled at Severus’s overuse of boiling, but agreed.

Harry tended to work on his schoolwork in the evenings when Severus read through scholarly journals by the fire, asking Severus for clarifications or commenting on what he was learning. It was a familiar routine, one they had perfected over the last year at Hogwarts. The house-elves could not send them snacks, so Severus made sure to summon tea and biscuits from the kitchen when they settled in.

So, no, it was not their own routine that first caused trouble, but the quickly oncoming Weasley party.

“They said I can Floo over tomorrow afternoon,” Harry said over breakfast. It was one of Harry’s days, and he had roasted bangers to go with baked beans and toast. “They’ll still be setting up, but I think Mrs. Weasley wants me to feel more like part of the family than a guest. Not sure how Ron will feel about that.”

“You’re still not speaking to him?” Harry had dropped brief hints about a divide between him and his best friend.

“He’s not talking to _me_ ,” Harry said. “Either he wasn’t told his mum, or she’s hoping we’ll patch it up at the party. I don’t think she’s met her son. He’s more stubborn than anyone.”

“But he cares for you,” Severus said. “You’ve told me what he’s done—sacrificed himself in Minerva’s chess match, entered the Chamber of Secrets by your side. Surely whatever small argument you’re having will clear up soon.”

He had argued with Lily often in their younger years, until that moment he had ruined things forever. He hoped that Harry was wiser than he was. Some things were unforgiveable, and Severus had regretted his temper ever since that day.

“I don’t know…” Harry prevaricated. He glanced up at Severus. “It’s nothing. If he doesn’t get over it, well—maybe he wasn’t the friend I thought he was.”

Severus hummed and took a sip of his tea.

Harry seemed to argue with himself for a moment, and then changed the subject, “Do you ever go flying?”

“Merlin, no,” Severus said. “There are enough ways to facilitate my death in the safety of my own lab.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, you’ve got a nice loop up there. I could help you learn,” Harry said.

Severus hid a wince. “Ah, that’s very kind of you, but I’ll keep my feet on the ground.”

“Okay,” Harry said easily. “I’ll fly with the Weasleys, I’m sure. And Sirius says there’s a field near Lupin’s house they can set up for practice when I’m over.”

Of course _Sirius_ had said that. His letters to Harry, which Severus had seen Harry poring over several times each, were likely full of all the reasons Harry should regret choosing to live with Severus.

“Okay, I’m going to go out for a flight then,” Harry said, picking up his plate and taking it to the sink. It had taken a long time to truly convince Harry that Severus didn’t need him to clean his dishes—Severus had eventually taught him the simple cleaning spell to assure him that it was no extra work for Severus at all.

“Stay safe,” Severus instructed. With the amount of wards and alarms Severus had set on the property, it would be difficult for Harry to properly injure himself, but Severus didn’t put it past him. This was a boy who had crawled through a pipe to fight a basilisk, after all. Reasonable precautions did not seem to apply.

Severus finished his tea and picked up the Prophet. He started toward his lab downstairs only to be interrupted by the chime of his Floo activating. Severus had installed a locked grate in front of it to dissuade any unwanted visitors and was alerted whenever it was contacted, but he still disliked the ease it gave people into his home. Before Harry, he had kept his Floo off the network, but Dumbledore had convinced him to activate it for Harry’s sake.

Severus flicked his wand to permit the caller through the ward. A familiar head appeared, floating in the green flames.

“Lupin,” Severus drawled. “This is unexpected.”

“Hello, Severus,” Lupin greeted.

“Is this about the Wolfsbane? You know, the potion you opted not to take this past month?”

“I had other priorities that night,” Lupin said.

“Ah, that’s a comforting thing to hear from a werewolf. So pleased Dumbledore decided to have you back again next year despite your little stunt.”

“No, Severus, it’s not about the potion,” Lupin pressed, “though I do appreciate you offering to continue providing my dose through the summer until we’re back in the fall.”

“Harry is out flying,” Severus told him. “If you want to talk to him, you can owl and set up a time. I’m not interested in playing secretary.”

“I’m calling to talk to you,” Lupin said. “I thought if I gave you warning, you’d avoid the call.”

Severus could not argue with that. He sat in the armchair facing the fire and crossed one leg over the other. “Proceed, then.”

“Molly says you aren’t coming to the party tomorrow,” Lupin said.

Severus blinked. “I assume you were toasting this news with champagne,” he said.

Lupin huffed. “Severus, you can’t be serious.”

“Fortunately not.”

“A Sirius pun? Really? I expected better of you. If it will dissuade you from doing that again, please just assume Sirius has made every conceivable joke possible.” He shook his head. “I’m calling to ask you to reconsider.”

“Lupin, we’ve known each other for nearly twenty-five years, and have been colleagues for the last nine months. I’m sure you are aware that I’m not interested in voluntarily spending more time with you, Black, or anyone else attending that party.”

“And what about Harry?”

“Fortunately I am able to see Harry plenty often without leaving with him to another house,” Severus pointed out.

“You know, we were all stunned when Harry told us you were his guardian,” Lupin said. “I was still reeling from finding out that Peter was alive. I didn’t think I could be more surprised. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Everyone said you had mellowed out this year, and the reckless Harry I expected from Minerva’s stories also seemed nowhere to be found. I still don’t know how it came about, but it seems to have done wonders for you both.”

“And this is relevant to the party how?”

“If you truly care for Harry, you won’t isolate him.”

Severus was quickly moving from annoyance into anger. It roiled inside him, and he swallowed it with difficulty. “I did not tell him not to attend the party. He has my full permission to go.”

“Yeah, but,” Lupin said, “does he feel like you _want_ him to go? Sirius told me about his dinner with Harry. Harry was worried he was having to decide between the two of you. You hate each other so much that he was sure whichever person he didn’t pick would never speak to him again.”

“I have my reasons, as you well know,” Severus hissed.

“You have an ugly childhood rivalry that you’ve both let live too long,” Lupin said. “I’ve tried my best to demonstrate that it’s possible to work congenially alongside an old rival this year, with no help from you. And I didn’t care, because I was proving to myself that I’d grown beyond what we all were in school. It didn’t matter to me if you had the emotional development of a twelve-year-old.”

“Excuse me?”

“But now that I know you’re Harry’s guardian, I can’t sit back and watch you try to starve out the only connections the boy has to his parents. I know you knew Lily once—”

“Don’t tell him that,” Severus said. “He doesn’t know.”

“Severus,” Lupin said gently.

“I know what I did wrong. Telling him won’t change the past—it will only hurt him.”

Lupin nodded. “I won’t tell him. But the point stands. Sirius and I would do anything for James and Lily’s son. From what I’ve seen, Harry could use a few more people in his corner.”

“The Boy Who Lived…” Severus drawled.

“Yes,” Lupin said. “And I think we both know that’s done more to isolate him than give him any sort of support. Come to the party, Severus. Show Harry that you won’t hate him for spending time with Sirius.”

“Lupin, no one wants me at this party,” Severus said. “We’ll all be miserable.”

“Everyone just wants Harry to be safe and happy. Just try not being a complete twat and you’ll see more people will want you around than you think,” Lupin said. “And if not, you can at least show Harry you tried.”

“I don’t need parenting advice from you,” Severus said.

“Merlin, and you shouldn’t take it from me. This is just a friendly word from someone who cares about Harry—and Sirius. If you’re looking for advice, though, I’m sure Molly Weasley will be happy to talk to you.” Lupin laughed at the expression on Severus’s face. “And—oh, that’s the door. Sirius is home. I should go.”

“He has no idea you’re talking to me,” Severus guessed.

Lupin gave him a crooked smile and disappeared.

#

The Weasleys’ backyard was decorated in red and gold streamers, and orbs of multi-colored lights floated over the grass like balloons. A groaning table sat on the lawn covered in platters of food, along with a multi-tiered cake as crooked as the Burrow behind it. There was no banner declaring what the occasion was. What could they have put? ‘Welcome back, Sirius’ didn’t quite allow for the fact he’d been in prison for twelve years.

The Weasleys all gathered together already created a large crowd, and there were a half-dozen other people besides. Mrs. Weasley had assured Harry when he and Snape had stepped through the fireplace that everyone in attendance was trusted implicitly by Dumbledore and would be prepared for Snape’s presence, and Snape had nodded to agree.

Some, he recognized: Sirius and Lupin, obviously. McGonagall was present, wearing a tartan robe and talking to another older woman Harry didn’t recognize. Hagrid had come as well, giving Harry an enormous smile when he spotted him. Hermione had written to tell him she was in France with her parents for the summer, but Harry still looked around in the hopes that she would be there.

Sirius was in the middle of talking to one of the strangers, a small man with a top hat, when he saw Harry. He extricated himself and strode across the yard. “Harry!” he greeted, sweeping Harry into a hug. Harry’s feet left the ground as Sirius twirled him in a circle. “Merlin, that was easier before you turned one,” he said, setting Harry back down. “I’m so glad you could come.”

Harry laughed, relieved by the enthusiastic welcome. They’d been exchanging letters all summer, but Harry had known showing up with Snape beside him was a risk.

Snape had changed his mind at the last moment to come along, and had even changed from his usual black ensemble into a, well, similar black robe, but lined in emerald green.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Harry said. “How are you?” It had only been three weeks since they’d said goodbye, but Sirius was already looking healthier. He’d put on some weight, filling in his gaunt cheekbones, and his hair was lush under the glowing lights.

“Fine, fine. Still mooching off Moony’s kindness while we get my old house sorted out,” he said. “I’ve been catching up on everything I missed. Someday you need to tell me about all the stories I keep hearing about you. To talk to half your professors, you’d think you’re a regular Kid Superman.”

“How do you know about Muggle superheroes?”

Sirius laughed. “One of my other best mates, Dorcas, was a Muggleborn. I spent some time in Muggle London in my teens, even. She’s the one who introduced me to good Muggle music. Do people still listen to Queen?”

“My aunt and uncle hated most music,” Harry admitted, “but I heard Queen at some school events. That ‘we will rock you’ song?” He flushed, feeling silly. “People liked to clap and stomp along, you know?”

“And that’s it? Oh, Harry, I have so much to teach you,” Sirius said. He looped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him forward. “Come on—you need to meet everyone.”

Harry glanced back at Snape, but let Sirius lead him into the crowd.

#

“Why, hello, Severus,” Lupin greeted.

Severus suppressed a sigh. He turned from watching Black dragging Harry around to talk to the other professor. “Lupin.”

“I see you took my advice,” he prompted.

“Obviously,” Snape said. “Do Gryffindors know other colors exist?” he added, nodding to the streamers.

“House loyalty,” Lupin said. “Do Slytherins not cover their parties in green and silver?”

“Decidedly not,” Severus said, though it wasn’t entirely true. Even the Malfoys, who were the height of class, tended to throw in extra silver and green into their décor.

“Severus,” Minerva said, coming up to them. From the glass in her hand and the glow to her cheeks, this wasn’t her first sherry. She had an arm around her companion’s waist. “I didn’t think you’d come!”

“Hello, Severus,” said her wife, Elsie. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Bonjour, Elsie,” he said, nodding to her. “It’s been a long time.”

Minerva’s wife was a magiarcheologist, and spent the school semesters traveling the world for her research. Though nearly Minerva’s age, Elsie seemed nowhere near slowing down. A few of the professors’ spouses lived in Hogsmeade so they had a chance at having family time during the school year, but Elsie lived in her native Paris when she wasn’t traveling.

“I’ve always adored Sirius. I was more than relieved when I heard the news that he was innocent,” Elsie said. “He stayed with us for part of one summer when he was having troubles at home. Do you remember that, Minnie?”

“Of course,” Minerva said. “See, Severus, you’re not so unique.”

Severus forced a small smile, but he seethed inside. Of course Black had whined about his home life and been immediately taken in by his Head of House. Where had this generosity been for Harry? Or Severus himself? It always seemed that the charismatic attention magnets got all the world’s empathy, and the rest were left to suffer. Was it only that Black had asked for help, or was there something else about him that made people care?

He was still dragging Harry around the gathering, introducing him to the old members of the Order as though he had any right to speak for Harry at all.

“Sirius talked about that summer for ages,” Lupin commented. “As though he weren’t already unbearably posh before then. You should never have let him into the wizard area of the Louvre.”

“A boy needs some time in Paris before he’s too set in his ways to absorb it all,” Elsie said wisely.

“Ah, yes, poor Sirius Black,” Severus said. “How would he have survived without a summer in Paris? It’s truly lucky he had the two of you.”

“Severus, you do recall that he just escaped from being wrongly held in Azkaban, don’t you? I don’t think a bit of sympathy for the man is out of line,” Minerva asked. So, perhaps not entirely over their spat.

“Of course,” Severus said. “Pardon me. I’m going to grab some refreshments.”

He strode away without waiting for farewells.

#

When Harry finally ducked away from Sirius and the stream of strangers giddily welcoming Sirius back, he slipped into the house. It was blessedly quiet after the chaos of the outside. Everyone was eager to talk to Sirius, and Sirius seemed only buoyed higher and higher by the conversations. Harry, meanwhile, felt drained. There was so much everyone was not saying. They were skating around Sirius’s time in prison as though he’d been on holiday, avoiding mentioning Snape’s presence at all, and pausing awkwardly when anyone mentioned Lily or James—which they seemed to do non-stop.

He didn’t know how Sirius was doing it. Harry could not have laughed so much after everything Sirius had been through.

He took the short hallway to the kitchen to see if there were some snacks away from the prying eyes around the tables outside. He found a plate of biscuits and was about to pick one up when someone stepped into the kitchen from deeper in the house. They both froze.

“What are you doing in here?” Ron asked, arms crossed.

Ron had been outside when Harry had first arrived, but he’d disappeared in the first few minutes.

“What, am I not allowed in here anymore?” Harry demanded. “After first year, it was ‘make yourself at home, Harry.’ Now it’s ‘what are you doing in here?’”

Ron flushed, but didn’t answer.

Harry gritted his teeth. “So, were you hiding in here? Going to ignore me all night?”

“I’m surprised you even noticed, with your new dad to keep you company,” Ron spat.

Harry flinched. “Really, Ron?”

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” Ron challenged. “How long has this been going on? What happened to hating Snape? Suddenly you’re a mini-Slytherin?”

“He’s not as bad as we thought,” Harry said. “This year, he’s been—”

“An entire _year_?” Ron asked. “Merlin, I thought I knew you. Did you tell Hermione? Were you laughing about me not knowing this whole time?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Harry said. “It wasn’t safe.”

“Not safe? Who got their leg broken this year, huh?”

Harry frowned. “That wasn’t Snape.”

“No, but it was _your_ fault, wasn’t it? After everything, you do something like this and don’t even tell me? It’s like we’re not even friends.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d act like this!” Harry snapped. “You ignored Hermione for months for something she didn’t do. How was I supposed to explain Snape?”

“Oh, so you’re the victim here,” Ron scoffed.

“You don’t know what it’s like not to have parents!” Harry shouted. “You saw, you saw what the Dursleys did to me after first year! You had to break the bars on my windows to get me out. You wanted me to stay with them forever? I had a chance to get away from them, and I took it.”

Ron looked shocked. “You would have told me if it had been that bad,” he said. “I thought it was some Muggle thing.”

“Even Muggles don’t lock up and starve their kids, Ron,” Harry said. “If that was happening to you, I wouldn’t wonder if it was some wizard thing. I would have helped you.”

“You never said anything,” Ron said hollowly.

“Yeah, I did,” Harry said. He was shaking with anger. “And everyone thought it was a one-time thing, or that I was exaggerating, or that it wasn’t as bad as I said, so I stopped talking about it. But Snape listened to me. And I don’t care if you stop talking to me. Because the only person who has _ever_ cared was someone I thought hated me. And everyone I thought I could trust just _left_ me there.”

“Mate,” Ron said, but Harry couldn’t listen anymore.

He shook his head and left the kitchen.

There were two people already in the hallway, standing in front of the door and talking in hushed voices. Sirius and Lupin. Harry hesitated. He didn’t want to interrupt, but the only other way out of the house was back through the kitchen.

“You’ve had enough, Sirius,” Lupin said, taking a glass from Sirius’s hand.

“What do they want from me, Moony?” Sirius asked, gesturing back toward the party outside. “I’m not who I used to be.”

“No one asked you to be the same.”

“They did. They do,” Sirius said. He plucked the glass back from Lupin and downed it. “No time for this. Back into the fray.”

“You could take a break,” Lupin said, but Sirius was already walking back out.

Lupin sighed and stared after him before finally following.

Harry lingered in the hallway until he thought it wouldn’t be obvious he’d been behind them, and then went back into the yard.

If Harry hadn’t overheard the conversation, he would have had no idea Sirius was unhappy with the party. He was beaming at Mrs. Weasley, and kissed her cheek with a wet smack.

Harry looked over the mingling guests, but he felt as though his insides had been scooped out. A sick feeling lingered in his throat. He worried that he might be about to cry, and blanched to imagine doing so in the middle of the festivities.

Snape was across the yard, talking to Hagrid. Hagrid seemed delighted, and kept patting Snape on the shoulder with obvious affection. Snape wasn’t running away, but seemed to be focusing most of his energy on keeping his feet under the onslaught. Harry knew from experience that Hagrid could accidentally knock over a hippogriff with his gentle pats.

“’Arry,” Hagrid greeted when Harry approached them. “I was just telling Severus here about how cute you were when you were a babe. Such a shame he never got to see you like that. Such a precious thing you were.”

Harry turned bright red. “I, uh, thanks. Do you mind if I steal Sna—uh, him for a second?”

“Of course, of course,” Hagrid said. He ruffled Harry’s hair. “Look at you. A new guardian and Sirius back. It’s going to be a good time for you. I just know it.” He wandered over to McGonagall and her guest, still smiling.

Harry and Snape stood in silence for a moment, a pocket of calm in the chaos.

“You can call me Severus,” Snape said suddenly. “If you want to. I know we haven’t worried about it before, but there’s no reason to use my last name or ‘professor’ when we’re with people who know.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Okay.” He hadn’t thought about how weird it was to call his guardian by his last name. When he was with Snape—Severus—he usually didn’t call him anything at all. He was glad, suddenly, Severus hadn’t told him to call him Dad. That might have been the final straw for Harry’s night.

“Is everything all right?” Severus asked.

“Yeah, just… Can we go home?”

Severus didn’t ask any questions. He just nodded. “Do you want to say goodbye to anyone?”

“Not really,” Harry admitted.

It seemed that everyone in the crowd was as intimidated by Severus as Harry had once been. When he stalked through the party with single-minded focus, Harry trotting along behind him, no one tried to stop him. They made it through the fireplace without being accosted, and Harry stepped back into Spinner’s End and finally took a full breath.

Home.


	2. Chapter 2

“You don’t have to go,” Severus commented over breakfast.

Black and Lupin were scheduled to pick up Harry that afternoon, and the boy had been fidgeting all morning. His fork had been tapping against his plate until Severus gave him a quieting look, and then he had begun tapping his fingers against his thumb instead in the kind of manic rhythm usually reserved to drummers.

Harry looked up, fingers stilling.

Severus held up a hand. “I am not telling you can’t, or shouldn’t go. Merlin forbid. They’re already convinced enough that I keep you locked in the cellar.”

Harry and Black had arranged this week-long visit over letters, and Severus had been the subject of not one but two Floo calls from Lupin confirming the date. Black, unsurprisingly, had been on neither call. When Severus had sneeringly asked Lupin if he’d taken a part-time job as a secretary, Lupin had called his bluff and offered to bring Black over to pop in. Severus had declined and severed the connection.

“But,” Severus continued, “you aren’t under any obligation to spend any part of your summer with Black. They have been quite insistent that I not bully you into declining, but it seems they may have bullied you into accepting.”

“No,” Harry protested. “I want to go.”

Severus looked at his fidgeting fingers pointedly.

“I mean, I’m a little nervous,” Harry confessed. “I have a lot to live up to. They were my dad’s best friends.”

“You’re not a replacement for your father,” Severus said.

Harry scoffed, running a hand through his hair in a manner not dissimilar to his father’s habit. “Everyone who meets me expects one of two things: the Boy Who Lived, or James Potter. You included.”

Severus couldn’t argue with that. “I was wrong,” he said. “You’re not your parents, no more than I am mine.”

“But does Sirius know that?” Harry asked. “He misses my dad so much. It’s obvious in his letters. I don’t want him to be disappointed with me.”

“Lupin will be there as well, remember?” Severus pointed out. “He’s had a year to get to know you. He won’t have told Black to expect James Potter back from the dead.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry said.

“And if you decide it’s not working, you are welcome to return here at any point. The Floo is open to you,” Severus said.

A small smile flitted over Harry’s lips. “Yeah, I know.”

#

Remus lived in a cozy house in Leicester. Unlike the rigid yards of Privet Drive or the small clearing of Spinner’s End, Remus’s house sat alone in the middle of a cluster of rolling hills. Small shrubs dotted the landscape, but there was grass as far as the eye could see in any direction.

“I’m sure you can imagine why neighbors would be inadvisable,” Remus said when Harry commented on the isolation. They had already shown him his room and the rest of the small house, and were standing on the porch together. Harry had felt a bit nervous staying at yet another Hogwarts professor’s house, but Remus had told Harry to call him by his first name during the summer and patted his arm.

“Ah, right,” Harry said.

“I’m certainly not complaining about some peace and quiet,” Sirius declared. “Plus, it makes it easy to fly without getting caught by Muggles. You brought your Firebolt, right, Harry?”

“Of course,” Harry said.

Sirius rubbed his hands. “I saw you in action at Hogwarts, but I didn’t have a great view. Dogs aren’t allowed in the stands, obviously. We’ll see if I still remember how to fly.”

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you forget,” Remus said.

“You’ll join us, right, Moony?” Sirius nudged Harry. “Your dad and I were on the team, but Remus here never would join. He was hell on a broom, though. Fast as anything.”

“I’m sure the team would have been fine with me missing any games landing on a full moon,” Remus said dryly. Now that Harry was in on his secret, he noticed that Remus mentioned his lycanthropy in passing, though rarely directly.

“Well, the full moon isn’t anywhere near this week. Snape made sure of that. He said it was the new moon, or no go,” Sirius said.

“I didn’t know that,” Harry said. Severus had taken several calls with Remus to nail down the timing while Sirius and Harry had continued exchanging letters about their fun plans. Harry hadn’t considered what they might have been discussing.

“Paranoid bastard,” Sirius said. “It’s his own potion that keeps Remus a sweet pup these days. He should have confidence in himself if not in us.”

“I, for one, would also prefer not to have Harry nearby while I’m transformed,” Remus said severely. “Not everyone has an Animagus form.”

Sirius’s eyes lit up. “Hey, Harry, you haven’t thought about getting one, have you?”

“This is why Severus was worried about us taking care of Harry this week,” Remus said, shaking his head and laughing. “Come on—let’s have some lunch and not try to convince your godson to break the law.”

“It’s not illegal if he registers it,” Sirius pointed out, even as he dragged Harry back toward the kitchen.

#

Harry had never been to a summer camp before. Dudley had been several years in primary, and always came back bragging about his art projects, lake swims, and horse rides. Harry, who was stuck gardening for his aunt all summer, had been bitter with jealousy. It was worse when Dudley decided he was tired of the activities and asked to stay home—and torment Harry—during summers.

His week with Sirius and Remus felt like how Harry had always imagined those camps.

Harry and Sirius played Quidditch until they were both sore, muddy, and exhausted. They even managed to get Remus to fly for a bit, though he mostly set himself as the referee.

On a clear day, they trekked over to one of the taller hills and had a picnic. Unlike the Muggle version, which relied on cold foods and were swarmed by bugs, magic allowed them to summon fresh food and hot tea directly from Remus’s kitchen.

Sirius never seemed to run out things to talk about. He had stories about the Marauders’ adventures becoming Animagi, his entertaining month with McGonagall and her wife (“McGonagall is _married_?” Harry had demanded), an occasion when Sirius and James had run from the Muggle police, a family that had tried to adopt Padfoot, and countless more.

He was also endlessly curious about Harry. Harry had never had the chance to talk about his Hogwarts adventures to someone who knew nothing about them. Saying it all out loud, the stories seemed fantastical.

“Honestly, I was just lucky Fawkes was there. If he hadn’t given me the Hat, I wouldn’t have gotten the sword. I would have been dead.”

“You stabbed a basilisk through the head, Harry. I think you can brag a little.”

Remus tired more easily, and seemed content to sit back and watch Harry and Sirius talk. He sipped his tea and watched them chat like he was at a Quidditch match. Harry had wondered if Remus might be annoyed that Sirius was staying with him, or that he had invited Harry to join as well, but he seemed pleased to have them there.

On the last day, the mood soured.

“I don’t see why you need to leave already,” Sirius complained over dinner. He had been sullen all day, his smiles seeming to come with extreme effort. Over the week, Harry had almost forgotten that Sirius had only just escaped Azkaban, but that day it seemed obvious. There was an anchor tied to Sirius Black, trying to drag him down. “One week out of the whole summer. It’s practically nothing.”

“This was a trial run,” Remus pointed out mildly. “He can always come back later in the summer if he wants to. We’re due to take him back to Severus in a few minutes.”

“I’m your godfather,” Sirius continued, ignoring him. “He can’t make us send you back. Do you _want_ to go back to him?”

Harry had had a great week getting to know Sirius. But he had, secretly, been looking forward to returning home. Staying at Spinner’s End had given Harry appreciation for the quiet. “Well…”

“Sirius,” Remus said. “Drop it.”

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius whined. “We can’t let him bully us.”

“We both know half of this was for him to see if you could let Harry go at the end,” Remus said quietly. “He’s testing you. If you fail this…”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said. He stood up from the dinner table and stalked out of the room.

“He’ll miss you when you’re gone,” Remus told Harry. “He’s really loved having you here.”

“I’ve really loved being here,” Harry admitted. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Any time,” Remus said. “Really. And I’m…sorry I didn’t try to find you earlier. You should have known about us your whole life. But Dumbledore told me that you were safe, and that it was better for me to keep my distance. It took him a long time to convince me I could work with students despite my lycanthropy, and I couldn’t imagine meeting you and putting you in danger.” He hesitated, looking down at his hands.

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “I didn’t know anything about the wizarding world until Hagrid came to get me for first year. It would have surprised me if one of my parents’ friends had come to visit. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would have probably tried to convince me you were a dangerous criminal.”

Remus didn’t laugh. “Dumbledore explained about the blood wards over the Dursleys’ house. I asked for all the details before I accepted you were safe there. I know that something bad must have happened for him to undo that and send you to Severus.”

Harry wringed his hands. He didn’t want to tell Remus—or Sirius. They had both been so impressed by Harry’s stories: the Chamber of Secrets, the Quidditch matches, the basilisk, the giant spiders. They thought Harry was interesting and brave.

What would they say if they knew about the Dursleys?

“Sirius is worried about it too, but he didn’t want to ask you directly,” Remus said. “I told him you might not want to talk about it. And you may have noticed he’s not great at serious conversations. But if you wanted to bring it up, we would want to hear.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to tell you—”

“Here we go,” Sirius said, bursting back into the room and setting a handful of butterbeer bottles and a larger bottle of bright red liquid on the table. “A toast.” His smile was firmly back in place.

“Sirius,” Remus said.

“What? Harry likes butterbeer.”

“And the firewhiskey?”

“What’s a party without it?”

“He’s already due back to Severus, and more importantly, he’s thirteen.”

“Almost fourteen,” Harry said, leaning forward to look at the bottle.

Sirius winked at him and uncorked it. Sparks flew from the top, and a sharp, smoky scent wafted forth.

“Sirius,” Remus repeated. “You can’t give my student firewhiskey.”

“Come on,” Sirius said. “Just a sip to celebrate his first week with his godfather! We were his age when we broke into our first bottle. Do you remember that? At least we won’t let him drink half of it and throw up in the Common Room fireplace.”

“Who did that?” Harry asked, intrigued and horrified.

“Peter,” Sirius said, and his smile fell for an instant.

“Can I really have some?” Harry asked. He had seen Dudley try his parents’ wine over dinner, but Uncle Vernon had always kept it far from Harry. He seemed sure that one sip would turn into alcoholism, a trait he was sure the Potters had suffered from.

“Come on, Remus. Please? Just a sip to remember us by. It won’t hurt him.”

Remus frowned for another second, and then caved. “Fine. One sip.”

“Nice,” Sirius said. He grabbed a trio of small glasses from a cabinet and set them on the table. As he poured the whiskey, the alcohol smoked and sparked. He poured two of the glasses to the brim, and then only a dribble into the third. When he passed it to Harry, he said, “It’s stronger than you think. I don’t want to break you.”

“I can handle it!” Harry protested, but he took the glass.

“This is ridiculous,” Remus said, but took his own glass.

“Bottoms up,” Sirius said, and drained his shot in one gulp.

Harry shrugged and followed suit. His eyes widened as the liquid seared down his throat. It truly felt like fire, but it didn’t hurt. There was an intense heat that traveled through him and warmed his stomach. The flavor was terrible, but fascinating.

Sirius laughed. “There you go, Harry. Look, Moony, he didn’t even cough. That’s a Potter for you.”

Remus shook his head. There was smoke curling from his ears. Harry reached up and could feel smoke coming out of his own ears.

The fire in the kitchen hearth turned green.

“And that will be Severus,” Remus said.

“Ah, shit,” Sirius said.

Harry clapped his hands over his smoking ears just as Severus’s head appeared in the flames.

He looked around the kitchen quickly, and seemed relieved when he saw Harry. “There you are. You’re late. I was beginning to worry you’d gotten my ward killed in some idiotic accident and were in the process of hiding the body.” His tone was dry, but Harry thought he might have truly been concerned.

“A little paranoid there, Snape?” Sirius drawled, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m fine,” Harry assured him, and a burst of smoke poured from his mouth with the words.

Severus’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Send him through,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now. Your time is up.”

Harry winced.

“Severus,” Remus began, “it really wasn’t—”

Severus disappeared, and the fire returned to normal.

Harry, who had felt his face flush with the spread of the firewhiskey, was now sure he was entirely pale.

“Great work, Sirius,” Remus said. “Truly brilliant.”

“Merlin. He’s always had the worst timing,” Sirius grumbled. “We were five minutes late.”

Remus glanced at the clock. “Closer to thirty. I lost track of the time.”

“Still,” Sirius said. He frowned at Harry. “You sure you want to go back?”

“Sirius!” Remus exclaimed.

“I mean it,” Sirius said. “Snape looked pissed, and I’ve seen him pissed. He’s got a hell of a temper. If you want to stay the night and let him cool down, we’ll make the excuses for you. This wasn’t on you, and I’ll make sure he knows that.”

“I’m not scared of Severus,” Harry said, and in saying it realized it was true. Severus would certainly be angry, but he would be clear about Harry’s punishment. There would be no unexpected whacks with frying pans, or being locked outside for Dudley, or being thrown in a cupboard. The punishment might not be fun—he remembered a half-joking threat about doing lines—but Severus would not hurt him.

The churning in his stomach lessened, if only slightly.

“But—”

“Sirius,” Remus said. “It’s time for Harry to go back to his guardian. We’ll smooth this over. But playing games and trying to keep Harry another night won’t help.”

Harry had already packed his belongings before dinner, so it was only a matter of stepping into the Floo. He shouldered his bag and broom. “Thank you for having me over,” Harry said quietly.

“You’ll come back, right?” Sirius asked. It seemed to pain him to see Harry leave, and Harry felt the same. As much as he had looked forward to being home again, he didn’t want to end their week like this.

“If Severus doesn’t revoke your privileges,” Remus murmured.

“It was half a shot and you let it happen too,” Sirius protested.

“I’ll come back,” Harry said firmly. “I had fun.”

They waved goodbye, but their smiles seemed forced. As Harry called out “Spinner’s End,” he had one last glimpse of Remus and Sirius by the fireplace, watching him, before the green flames overtook him.

#

Severus paced for the first minute after pulling his head from the fireplace, but forced himself to sit down in the armchair. He needed to get a hold of his emotions.

That ridiculous, immature child. And Lupin, enabling him! He had imagined horrible Quidditch injuries or illegal Animagus training or throwing eggs at houses, but giving a thirteen-year-old Firewhiskey? It beggared belief. What else had gone on in that home before Severus had popped his head in?

Severus wanted to climb back through the grate and shake some sense into Black, but only the look on Harry’s face gave him pause.

This would be a test. Severus needed to prove he was more mature than Black. He needed to put Harry over his own indignation. His temper was boiling, and he wanted to rend Black to ribbons. But if he did this wrong, he could lose any sense of trust Harry had given him.

Finally, the fire flared green, and Harry stepped through. He noticed Severus immediately, and carefully put down his bag and broom. “Er, hello, Severus.”

Severus took a deep breath. “How much have you had to drink, Harry?”

“Barely a sip,” Harry said. “Really.”

“I need you to be honest with me. Firewhiskey is not easy on the stomach, and if you’re going to vomit, I’d like a bit of warning.”

“I am being honest!” Harry said. “Sirius knew you’d react like this.”

“Oh, did he?” Severus said silkily. “And yet, he chose to do it anyway. That’s typical Black.”

“It was barely any,” Harry insisted. “He just wanted us to have a fun moment before I had to leave. Even Remus went along with it.”

“Oh, yes, and I have faith in _Lupin_ to contradict Black when he has an idea in his head,” Severus said. “That man has never stood up to one of his friends in his entire life, and age clearly has not changed that.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Harry said. “They’re afraid you’re never going to let me go back there.”

“Should I?”

“Severus,” Harry protested.

“Of course they told you to worry about that. They want you turned against me. They are deliberately pushing the boundaries,” Severus seethed. It was all becoming clear. “They aren’t content with you being my ward, so they plan to push and prod until I’m forced to make a statement. Then it will be me against them in Dumbledore’s eyes, and we certainly know how that will go. I know their games. This was a deliberate attempt to infuriate me.”

“That’s not what’s happening,” Harry said. “It’s ridiculous. All of you think the other is some conniving bastard, but none of you are. Sirius just wanted to have a toast with me. He’s not some evil mastermind.”

“Either he’s a complete fool, or he’s manipulating you—and me,” Severus said.

“And he thinks you’ve brainwashed me,” Harry said. “You’re both wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” Severus said. “I’ve known him far longer than you have.”

“He’s not a kid anymore. Neither are you. I know you don’t trust Sirius, but don’t you trust me? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

Severus hissed through his teeth. “I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust. You’re thirteen, Harry. I know you believe the best in people, but not everyone has your interests at heart.”

“I know that. Of course I know that,” Harry said, voice rising. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. You’re the one who told me I should trust more people. I trust you. And I trust Sirius.”

“When I said that, I didn’t think you’d pick Sirius Black,” Severus lamented. “You just—You’re not scared of me,” Severus realized, pulled up short.

“I mean, I am a little,” Harry said, as though Severus were upset by the thought.

“You’re arguing with me.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Harry said, lifting his chin.

Severus shook his head, surprised out of his ranting.

Maybe Black _was_ trying to drive a wedge between Severus and Harry. But he did not know what they had gone through. It would take far more than Sirius Black to ruin this.

Harry was watching him, still confused. Still not frightened.

After the revelations of last summer, Severus had believed it would be nearly impossible for Harry to trust another guardian. Severus had resigned himself to a long journey toward trust. But there was a light in Harry Potter than even the Dursleys could not snuff out.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I told you once that I would clear about the rules you had to follow. You were misled by an adult responsible for your care, so I can’t reasonably hold you accountable for this. But in the future, if you drink underage, you’ll lose flying privileges for the following week. Are we clear?”

“It was barely a sip!” Harry protested. “A lot of kids do a lot worse. I know the twins have let Ron have a drink before.”

Severus sighed. Did all guardians have this conversation? “I’m not responsible for all children,” he said. “Your brain and body are more sensitive to alcohol than an adult’s, and I’ve seen the poisonous lure of addiction. You have quite enough to deal with without bringing mind-altering substances into the equation.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “Can…can I still go back and see Sirius again?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Severus thought Sirius was dangerously reckless, deliberately out to steal Harry from under Severus’s care. Harry thought he was a well-meaning idiot. Either way, Severus wasn’t keen to send Harry back to him.

What would a real parent do? A good parent? The Dursleys had not allowed Harry any friends at all, from his stories. Severus’s own parents would not have cared even if Severus had decided to befriend a local serial killer. (He technically had, in the end.) None of those were good examples.

There were so few good parents. The Evanses had never liked Severus, but they had not stopped Lily from befriending him. Objectively, that might have been the wrong decision. What life might Lily Evans have had without Severus staining it from so early on? Without Severus accidentally betraying her?

“That remains to be determined,” Severus said stiffly. “Go to your room and unpack. We’ll talk about this more in the morning.”

Once Severus figured out what to do.

#

Later that week, when the Floo brightened to green, Harry sat up in nervous anticipation. He was in the living room with Severus going over his newly-finished Charms homework after they’d eaten lunch. Only a few people had access to Severus’s Floo address.

Had Sirius finally figured out how to smooth things over with Severus? There had been stony silence on the subject from Severus since Harry’s return.

There was a grunt as someone stepped through the flames and collided with the iron grate in front of the hearth.

Severus, who had stood immediately, wand in hand, snorted. He had told Harry he kept the grate up to dissuade people from dropping in unexpectedly. Harry had asked what would happen if they weren’t home to open the grate for someone.

Severus had said that anyone foolish enough to presume entry into his living room had better be aware of some fire-proofing spells while they waited. The Floo flames would only not burn until the green faded back to orange.

“Ouch, bloody hell,” said a familiar voice.

Harry said, “Let him in.”

Severus flicked his wand, and Ron Weasley tumbled into the living room.

“Mr. Weasley,” Severus drawled. “This is a surprise. Primarily due to the fact you were uninvited.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.

“Mum sort of shoved me through,” Ron admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “She reckons I’ve been unfair. You know how she gets.”

“I reckon she was right,” Harry said coolly.

“He can be ‘shoved’ back quite easily,” Severus commented.

Ron looked between Harry and Severus with alarm, and Harry was viciously satisfied by his unease. Then, Harry sighed. “I should hear him out. Do you mind, Severus?”

Severus frowned at Ron, and then said, “I will go check on the status of the Wolfsbane downstairs. You know how to alert me to any trouble.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. Severus had shown him the alarm he’d set up around Harry near the end of the last summer. It had been how he had found Harry when he had passed out in the greenhouse, but had now been tweaked so that Harry could activate it as well.

Severus swept out without another word.

Harry waited silently in his wake. He’d learned something from watching Severus, after all.

Ron looked around the room. He was clearly uncomfortable. “This isn’t what I expected,” he commented.

“What did you expect? A dungeon, maybe?”

“Well,” Ron said.

Harry shook his head. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. Like Severus said, we can give you some Floo powder. Tell your mum we weren’t in, or something.”

“You’re not making this easy by acting like—” Ron cut himself off, but it was too late.

“Like what?”

“Like _Snape_ ,” Ron said.

“This isn’t me being like Severus. I promise he wouldn’t give you the chance to talk at all. I’d rather know why you’re acting like Malfoy.”

“ _Me_?” Ron repeated.

“Who else goes around insulting other people’s parents all the time? And guardians,” Harry added. “It’s not okay when he’s making fun of your parents for not having money or Hermione’s parents for being Muggles or mine for being dead, but you can act like Severus is a monster—and that I’m even worse for letting him look after me? Come off it, Ron.”

“Yeah, but, that’s different,” Ron said. “This isn’t… I mean, this isn’t real, is it?”

Harry clenched his teeth, biting down a shout. Finally, he said, “Maybe you should just leave.”

“Wait, no,” Ron said. “This isn’t why I came here. I don’t get this. But maybe you can explain it to me. I want us to be normal again.”

Harry huffed. “Are you sure you want to listen?”

“You’re my best mate,” Ron said. “I just feel like I don’t know you anymore. I never expected any of this.”

“I’m still me.” Harry had to swallow. “This is a good thing, Ron. You don’t want to make me pick between you and Severus. I promise you don’t.”

“Okay,” Ron said. “Tell me about it.”

Harry looked him over. He was still coated with ash from the fireplace, and there was a trail leading across the living room. “Let’s sit outside.”

#

Severus waited until it was nearly dark before he stepped out of the house.

Harry and Weasley were sitting in the chairs Severus had set up beside the greenhouse when it had become clear Harry was addicted to the outdoors. Severus tended to prefer staying inside—far fewer bugs and less sweat, that way—but he’d caught Harry laying in the grass one time too many.

The two boys had been talking for hours, and didn’t seem at each other’s throats. In fact, they were laughing before they spotted him. Weasley clammed up, but Harry just gave him a pleased smile.

Good. If the brat hadn’t apologized, Severus had planned to find some way to make him regret it. The divide in their friendship had clearly been weighing on Harry’s mind. Harry had told Severus about Weasley’s long fight with Granger during spring semester, so the boy was clearly able to hold a grudge. He must have gotten it from Molly’s side of the family—Severus was sure Arthur had never indulged bad blood in his life.

“It’s late,” Severus said.

The boys looked around as though surprised it had gotten dark around them. Severus had sent out a few orbs of light to dance around the yard—and ward off the worst bugs—when the sun had set, but they had clearly not noticed.

“Supper is ready.”

“Oh,” Weasley said. “I should head home, then.”

Harry gave Severus a disappointed look, and Severus said, “There’s plenty enough food for you as well, Mr. Weasley. Though I’d request you warn your mother before you stay any longer. I’m certain she’s worried about you.”

“Maybe Ron could even spend the night?” Harry suggested.

Severus raised his eyebrows, but Weasley didn’t look appalled by the idea. “If you’d like,” Severus allowed.

“Great,” Weasley said. “I’ll just let Mum know I’m staying.”

Weasley stuck his head through the Floo, talked with someone on the other side for a few minutes, and then pulled back out. “She wants to talk to you,” he told Severus.

Severus steeled himself and sent his head spiraling through the fire to the Burrow. Molly Weasley was sitting in her kitchen, blessedly alone. With a family her size, it must have been difficult to get the space to breathe. Then again, he didn’t think she’d ever feared demanding it.

“Molly,” he greeted.

“Hello, Severus,” she said. “I hope you didn’t mind too much Ron dropping by unexpectedly. I had planned to send a letter, but he was driving me mad. I always tell the kids there’s only so much sulking I’ll put up with about problems of your own bloody making.”

“That’s a clever rule,” Severus said.

“Ron tells me that you’ve invited him to spend the night.”

“I have,” Severus said neutrally. The boy’s suspicions seemed to have been settled, but what about his mother’s? If she threw a fit now, it could set back the tentative bridge of their friendship. She had always treated Severus kindly, but had no special affection for him. After all, she’d have years of stories from her children about how terrible he was to the Gryffindors in his classes—and to Harry specifically.

“You can’t let those two bully you, Severus,” Molly said. “If you want Ron to come back here, you just have to say the word.”

“It’s really no trouble,” Severus said. “It will be good for Harry, if you don’t mind it.”

She waved a hand. “Mind it? It’s good to get him out of here for a bit. He’s a stubborn git, but Harry’s always been his best mate. They need time to get back to normal. And I think it’s good for Harry to have friends.” She looked at Severus closely. “You know, Harry came to stay with us the summer before second year.”

“I recall the flying car,” Severus said.

“I’m sure I don’t know anything about that,” Molly said. “But I had the feeling Harry needed the escape. I talked to Dumbledore, and he insisted I was wrong about Harry’s aunt and uncle. I’ve always trusted Dumbledore. Harry seemed desperate for a new home, but if Dumbledore insisted Harry needed to consider the Dursleys his home… Maybe I didn’t fight hard enough. I saw something wasn’t right there, but Dumbledore had never led me wrong before. I listened to him instead of trusting my instincts about Harry. But I was right to be concerned, wasn’t I?”

Severus carefully held his expression neutral. “That’s something you’d have to ask Harry.”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought,” she said, as though he’d answered her question. “I’m glad you were there for him. He needs someone like you in his corner.”

“Someone like me?” Severus cautioned.

“Allergic to horseshit and immune to fame,” she said bluntly.

Severus didn’t suppress his smile at that. “I believe the Weasley family also fit those qualifications.”

“You’re doing a good job with Harry,” Molly said. “I know you’re stepping into the teen years without any preparation—you know as well as I do that being a teacher and being a parent are entirely different beasts. Let me know if you ever need any advice, or sherry. Teenagers get worse before they get better.”

Severus recalled his own teen years with horror. “I appreciate the offer,” he said.

“Take me up on it,” Molly instructed. “Now, go feed the boys. I’ll expect to see more of you going forward. Send Ron back in the morning, or as soon as you’re tired of him.”

“Thank you, Molly.”

“Goodnight, Severus.”

#

Severus transfigured the couch into a second bed and levitated it to Harry’s room for the night. After they ate, Harry and Ron continued to talk—not about Snape or the Dursleys, but the upcoming Quidditch World Cup and the Weasleys’ antics over the summer so far.

They laughed well into the night before finally turning in.

It was a familiar comfort to hear Ron’s quiet breathing from the bed beside his. Though Harry liked having his own space at Severus’s house, he often missed the comradery of the dorm room.

At the beginning, Harry had feared his two worlds—his friends and Severus—would never meet. There was so much bad blood between them. Dinner had been slightly awkward. Ron was torn between being himself and being cautious around Severus, but Severus had been brilliant at being the man Harry knew. Harry had worried he would be prickly with Ron, both because he was invading Severus’s house and because he had heard all about the fight, but Severus had taken Harry’s lead to treat Ron as a welcome guest.

Now, with Ron asleep in Harry’s room and Severus asleep down the hall, Harry could finally picture a future where Severus could be as much a fixture in Ron’s life as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in Harry’s.

Would Severus want to stay in Harry’s life after he came of age? The guardianship would only last until Harry turned seventeen. He had always been eager to leave the Dursleys behind and never look back as soon as he was legal. The thought of leaving Severus behind, remembering Spinner’s End as a short-lived visit instead of as his home, was upsetting.

Harry rolled over and shoved his head against his pillow. He would worry about that later. Tonight, he had his best mate back, and that was what mattered. He fell asleep to the sound of Ron’s steady breathing.

#

Severus fed Harry and Ron Weasley breakfast, made sure the boy didn’t accidentally Floo himself into a dead end, and then sent Harry out to fly. Subtly. Harry was exceptionally nosy when he picked up on something unusual.

“It’s meant to rain the rest of the week,” Severus commented idly. “If you want to practice for a chance at beating Slytherin, you might want to get out today.”

“Sirius showed me a move I’ve been wanting to keep practicing,” Harry commented in agreement, and then glanced at Severus guiltily.

He kept his expression clear. “Then you’d better go test it,” he said. “I’m sure the vintage techniques are more difficult than what you’re learning these days.”

“You’re not _that_ old,” Harry said with a laugh, but eagerly took his broom and went outside.

After setting up a ward to alert him if Harry touched the front door—in addition to the usual ones to make sure he didn’t break his fool neck—Severus steeled himself and cast his Patronus.

And blinked.

His doe had grown antlers. Its legs had gotten lankier, like it was still growing.

He pushed aside a tangle of emotions and snapped an instruction to the stag. He sat in his armchair and waited, tapping his fingers on the arms.

It took less time than he expected.

The fire flared green, and Sirius Black stumbled through the open grate. “What is it?” he demanded. His shirt was only half-buttoned. He had clearly spent the past two months at Lupin’s house outside, because he was far darker than he’d been that night in the Shrieking Shack. “Where’s Harry?”

“Harry is flying outside,” Severus said. When Sirius took a step toward the door, Severus held up a hand. “He’s fine. There’s no emergency.”

“Then why—you told me to come over. As soon as possible.”

“Well, Harry will only fly for so long, and I’d prefer to have this conversation without him.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, which tumbled to his shoulders. “You sent me a Patronus just so we could chat the second it was convenient for you? You’re a piece of work, Snape.”

“What, were you so very busy?” Severus asked. “I hadn’t realized you’d become gainfully employed.”

“I’m not at your beck and call. Doesn’t matter if I was skipping through the field. I don’t have to drop jack shit at your command.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Severus said.

“Don’t be so—” Sirius cut himself off. “Fine. What’s this about? Still want to yell at me about the Firewhiskey? Ready to tell me that you’re cutting off my Harry privegles? I expected a letter. You’ve never been one for face-to-face.”

“It’s been more than a decade since we were classmates,” Severus pointed out, trying to keep a calm expression. Talking to Black did make him feel eighteen again. “Perhaps I’ve grown.” _Not all of us were stunted by time in prison,_ he decidedly did not say. He could be civil. For Harry.

Black snorted.

“Ron Weasley spent the night.”

“Oh, did he?” Black asked. “Finally. He got that grudge-holding from his mum. Arthur couldn’t stay mad at a poltergeist. I told Harry he’d come around eventually.”

“He is not a thirty-three-year-old who has been holding the same grudges since his school days,” Severus pointed out mildly.

“Like you’re not still bitter too,” Black said.

Severus sighed. “That’s what I’m saying, you imbecile. We’re both acting like children, and it’s driving Harry to madness.”

“I—Well, at least you admit it,” Black said.

“I will never like you, Black,” Severus said. “But I made a vow to protect Harry, and do my best by him. He should not have to pick between two adults who can’t set their own feelings aside for his sake. I intend for us to be civil about this.”

Black crossed his arms. “What’s your play here, Snape?”

“Not everything is a game.”

“I,” Black said, rocking back and forth on his toes like he was ready to break into pacing. “You don’t like Harry spending time with me. You want me out of his life.”

“I _want_ you out of my life. I _need_ you to stay in Harry’s life, for his sake. Unfortunately, that will occasionally mean my presence as well,” Severus said. “In another world, we could part ways this instance and never darken each other’s doorsteps again. I’d happily go the rest of my days without seeing your face again. But we’re in this world. There are few things I would not do for Harry’s sake.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m Harry’s guardian, and that will not change. You’re Harry’s godfather, which will also not change. For the boy’s sanity, we need to stop bickering like children and accept that.”

“Now you think you’re a bigger man than me,” Black said. “You’re trying to make Harry think that I’m some irrational lunatic.”

“Harry can make up his own mind,” Severus told him. “I advise you stop acting like something you don’t want him to see. He’s very perceptive.”

Black pointed a finger at Severus, and then clenched his fist and bit his knuckles. “You’re a goddamn prick, did you know that? Merlin, this would be so much easier if you would be a complete wanker.” He shook his head. “You’re backing me into a corner. You always were a sneaky shit.”

“You think I want us to be civil for nefarious purposes? How many times do you have to be told that I’m looking after Harry’s best interest? Get it through your thick skull. Not everything is about you.”

“You can be looking out for Harry’s best interest and trying to drive me mad at the same time,” Black pointed out.

“That doesn’t seem very difficult to do.” Severus sighed. “Harry needs stability. The more you try to tear us apart, the more you hurt him. And…my dislike of you does the same. We have to—”

“Merlin, stop talking,” Black grumbled. “You’re right.”

“Say that again.”

Black met his eyes, and there was a joyful, defiant spark there that made Severus very nervous. “You’ve convinced me. You’re right. If you can do it, then obviously it’s best for Harry. But you’ve backed yourself into your own nasty corner.”

“Have I?”

“You have to be nice to me. And if you’re not, the kid you seem to care so much about will think you’re the wanker you are,” Black said. “When’s the last time you were nice to someone, Snape? Or should I call you _Severus_?”

Severus repressed a shudder. “I’m a professor at Hogwarts. I know when to be civil.”

“Harry’s a Gryffindor. Your brand of civility will make you seem like a dick. I can be the friendliest bastard on the planet.”

“It’s not a _competition_.” Severus was growing more uncomfortable because… Black was right. Damn him.

Black grinned at him. “Oh, Severus,” he said, clicking his tongue. “It doesn’t have to be a competition for me to win.”

Severus opened his mouth, and then the ward chimed by his ear. “Harry’s coming back inside. Go home, Black.”

“Nope,” Black said. “I’m here. I might as well say hello.”

“Don’t tell him—” Severus cut himself off when the door opened and Harry clomped inside. He’d stopped being such a mouse in Severus’s house, which had taken a fair bit of time. He took off his shoes at the door, but could walk like a herd of erumpents.

Harry passed by the entry to the living room and froze. He had his Firebolt slung over his shoulder, and had to adjust his grip not to drop it. “Sirius?” he blurted, looking between them with obvious concern in his eyes. “What’s going on? Is Remus okay?”

“Remus is fine,” Black said. “Severus and I were just chatting.”

“I… What?”

Black grinned at Severus again, who just raised an eyebrow. “Severus invited me over. You know what his wards are like. You need an engraved invitation to get through.” It wasn’t a lie, but Harry still looked anxious. “Severus was just telling me that we should schedule another time for you to come to my place.”

Harry looked at Severus, still frowning.

“It’s true,” Severus said easily. Black was trying to trip him up, but he refused to fall so early. “We thought a shorter visit next time.”

“We sure did,” Black agreed through gritted teeth.

“You called him Severus,” Harry said faintly.

“That’s his name,” Black pointed out. “He asked me to call him that. Thought it’d make things more like family. Isn’t that right?”

“Hm,” Severus said.

“What is this about?” Harry asked. “You’re both acting… Just tell me if something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry,” Severus assured him. The game with Black was strange enough, but he wouldn’t have it distressing Harry. Harry looked the way he had the night Severus had invited Dumbledore to Spinner’s End to confront him about the Dursleys.

Anxious. Hunted. Hopeful.

“We’ve been talking,” Severus said. He didn’t want to lie entirely to Harry—he tried not to do so for such needless reasons—but he hoped Harry would assume he meant through letters rather than just for the past ten minutes. “I thought you would appreciate it.”

“I do,” Harry rushed to say. “It’s just…really weird.”

“People can grow up, Harry,” Black said with a wink. “I haven’t done it much, but I’m capable. Now, I should head off and get out of your hair.”

“Oh, don’t rush yourself on our account,” Severus said.

“I insist,” Black said. “I know how you like your space, Severus. And after Ron was just here, I’m sure your entertaining skills are drained.”

“You told him about Ron?” Harry asked Severus. He didn’t seem upset—he was clearly baffled by the idea of them having any conversation at all. It proved that this entire farce was worthwhile. Harry could not fathom his guardians being able to discuss something so innocuous. How could he trust them to look after him?

“I mentioned it,” Severus said neutrally.

“It’s great, Harry,” Black said. “I told you he’d come around. Otherwise, I’d have gone for the other leg.”

“You’ll like Ron,” Harry told Black.

“We can invite him out to Remus’s at some point, if you’d like. He can round out our Quidditch numbers,” Black said. “So, you and Severus will both come to dinner on Thursday, won’t you?” Black continued cheerily, clapping his hands. “That’s when Remus goes to the farmer’s market. You can’t beat real fresh vegetables. Muggles don’t rely on freshening spells, you know.”

“Oh,” Harry said, glancing at Severus with ill-concealed hope.

“Of course,” Severus said. “L—Remus has said he’s enjoying cooking.”

“He’s tops,” Sirius said. “Say, you don’t play Quidditch, do you, Severus? You could hop on a broom with us.”

Severus’s expression chilled. “I don’t,” he said. That bastard. This had been a mistake. Black would use this entire charade to torment Severus at every chance. Severus could still remember the feeling of a broom bucking underneath him, cruel laughter ringing out from every corner. Potter and Black on the Quidditch team, getting all the glory. Severus unable to balance on a broom without falling. Merlin, this had been a mistake.

But Severus could put up with it, for Harry’s sake, and give back as good as he got.

Black, though, looked chagrined. “Ah, right,” he said, growing solemn for a moment. “Well, never mind that. Dinner will be great.”

Black finished making his excuses and left, giving the room a wave and a wink before disappearing.

Harry turned to Severus. “Are we really going on Thursday?” he asked.

“I did say we would,” Severus said mildly.

Harry gave him a skeptical look, as though waiting for him to take it back, but finally nodded. “Okay. Um, thanks.”

Severus just nodded. “How did your flying practice go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://starknjarvis27.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

Since Hagrid had shown up at the cabin in the sea, Harry had encountered a lot. Talking pictures, goblins and unicorns, flying cars, a promise that Harry was special. After three years, Harry thought he had a good understanding of the difference between what was ‘new’ and what was ‘weird.’

This was weird.

As promised, Harry and Severus had Flooed to Remus’s house in the field on Thursday evening. The smell of a hearty meal swept over them immediately. Sirius greeted them by the hearth, practically bouncing like the dog he could turn into.

The strange normalcy between Sirius and Severus continued. Sirius grinned and clapped Severus on the back, Severus nodded and called Sirius by his first name.

Over dinner, the conversation stayed centered on Harry, even when he tried to change the subject. Harry’s classes, Harry’s friends, Harry’s plans for the next year and further into the future. Harry, who had never spent a single second imagining what he’d want to be after graduation, was flustered by all the attention.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What’s your top class, Harry?” Sirius asked. “Transfiguration, I’ll bet. That was always me and James’s. There are a lot of cool jobs in that field.”

“I think Harry would make an excellent Defense teacher,” Remus commented idly, and Harry flushed hot. His favorite teacher thought Harry could do the same job?

“You think everyone wants to go into academia. It’s got to be Transfiguration. Or, well, maybe Potions,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “That was Lily’s wheelhouse.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yeah, the Potions Master adored her,” Sirius said. “Surely your Potions grade is great too.”

“Well,” Harry prevaricated.

“It’s improving,” Severus said, which did not help.

“A little favoritism there, Severus?” Sirius asked with a jovial smile.

“Hardly,” Severus said. “He’s simply learning more. Harry is doing more studying than any of my other students.”

“Taskmaster and guardian, eh?” Sirius asked. “You couldn’t give him a break?”

“I don’t want to cheat just because Severus is my guardian,” Harry said, though he wouldn’t have minded Severus taking a break from double-checking his homework so often. He had been working with Harry on his penmanship, and always noticed when Harry cut corners in his studying. He was still sure there was some private fight going on between Severus and Sirius, though, so he continued, “The Dursleys usually did Dudley’s homework for him.”

There was a beat of silence. Harry waited with a surge of anxiety. Remus had said that he and Sirius were curious about why Harry had ended up with Severus.

“If the guardianship ever comes to light, I won’t have Harry’s school record brought into question,” Severus said. “He’ll earn every grade he receives.”

“Smart,” Sirius said.

Even Severus looked surprised at that, though he quickly hid it.

“Is there a spell to make someone be nice to you?” Harry asked Remus quietly when he volunteered to help him grab the dessert from the kitchen. They could have easily summoned it, so maybe Remus had always wanted a second away from the strange sight of Severus and Sirius acting friendly.

“There are potions that can create temporary comradery, and spells—dark spells—that can control the mind for a longer time,” Remus said, pulling a cloth off a pie. It was simply decorated with hatched lines of pastry, and dark juice stained the edges purple. “You’ll be learning about those next year. Which of them do you think hexed the other?”

“I can’t decide,” Harry admitted.

Remus laughed. “It’s not magic.”

“Then what is it?” Harry asked.

Remus hummed. “Is it so difficult to believe that they may have finally found something in common?”

“What could they have in common?” Harry asked.

Remus just shook his head. “I promise it’s not magic, Harry. There are two Hogwarts professors at the table. I won’t let anyone hex anyone else.”

“You’re Sirius’s friend,” Harry pointed out.

“And half our friendship has been me making sure Sirius toed the line,” Remus said. “Trust me on this one. And enjoy it. Aren’t you glad they’re getting along?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “I just…didn’t think it was possible.”

“Give them a little more credit,” Remus said. “Now, come on. I hope you saved room for blackberry tart.”

#

A week after the dinner at Remus’s house, Severus invited the two over to Spinner’s End. If he didn’t, he was sure Sirius would find a way to make them come over to Remus’s again. Severus wouldn’t have Sirius seeming like the only one who was trying.

It was all even stranger than he expected. Sirius had taken to the challenge with his usual pigheadness, but Severus hadn’t thought he’d be able to fake friendliness so well. He certainly had never tried at Hogwarts, even to his own estranged family members. It was always quite obvious when Sirius disliked someone.

When he’d arrived, though, he’d hugged Harry, and then made such easy small talk with Severus it could have been believed that someone had Obliviated Sirius. He didn’t touch Severus with the same impunity he did Harry and Remus, thank Merlin. He nearly always had an arm around one or the other of them, or was nudging them with his hip, or ruffling their hair. If he’d tried to touch Severus, Severus thought he might have bit him.

He fed them soup and sandwiches, the kind of simple food that Gryffindors surely liked, and then ushered them outside to fly.

He sat on the chair by the greenhouse and watched the three of them loop in circles over the house. The space inside the wards was not big. Severus had illuminated the wards for today, making them clearly visible. With the horseplay they’d inevitably fall into, Severus didn’t want to risk someone crashing into them. The three broomsticks zooming under the bright orange dome made them seem like lacewings in a jar.

Remus landed on the ground beside him and then stretched, rubbing at his neck. “Mind if I join you, Severus?”

Severus nodded to the chair beside him, and Remus sat.

“Merlin,” Remus said. “I don’t think Sirius aged the same as the rest of us. I can’t fly like I did when I was fifteen.”

No doubt his monthly transformations were hell on the joints as well. Too little research was done into lycanthropy. Ails that magic could easily cure were considered too risky for werewolves—there were too many ways for magic to interfere poorly with a werewolf’s delicate mind and body. It was part of the reason Remus had suggested chocolate against Dementors, rather than leaning on magic.

But then, Sirius had been in Azkaban, not playing for the Wimbourne Wasps.

“I think Sirius simply has too much pigheaded stubbornness not to try to keep up with Harry,” Severus commented. “He’ll probably whinge to you all night.”

“Oh good, we’re dropping the act. Harry asked me if you two hexed each other,” Remus commented.

“What did you say?”

“I told him of course you hadn’t,” Remus said. “He’s a smart boy, Severus. He knows you haven’t become best friends overnight.”

“I was going to ease him into it, but Sirius decided to drop us both in the deep end.”

“That’s very Sirius,” Remus admitted. “Harry will adjust. It’s obvious he’s delighted by this turn of events. Even if he doesn’t trust it.”

Severus hummed.

“I have the feeling Harry rarely trusts when things go right,” Remus said. “Nothing like James or Lily. They forgot about storms as soon as they were over. Harry’s more cautious. More like me and you.”

“Are we so similar?” Severus asked drolly.

“You and I or you and Harry?” Remus asked. “You’re good for him. It’s obvious.”

“Sirius Black doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He’ll come around,” Remus said. “I didn’t think you cared about his opinion.”

“I don’t. He’s a better actor than I expected.”

“He’s always known how to wear a mask. He just made the decision a long time ago not to. He and our other friends became Animagi in school and never raised suspicion. He knows how to lie when it matters. And Harry matters to him.” He looked up at the sky, where Sirius and Harry were zooming overhead. “He’s trying to be a good role model. He wants to do right by Harry. You must see that.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so,” Severus pointed out. “Harry is my only priority. Sirius’s feelings are only relevant because of Harry. But I’ve seen that you’re…more of a stabilizing influence on him.”

“Than I was in school? Probably. We’ve both grown up a lot. I’m better at saying what I think, and he’s better at listening when I do.”

“Are…” Severus considered whether he really wanted to ask the question on his mind. Remus looked relaxed beside him, watching Sirius and Harry with obvious affection. Severus only wanted more information. He needed an idea of Sirius’s stability if this farce would last long-term. “How long will he be staying at your house?”

“As long as he likes,” Remus said.

“Grimmauld Place is still his, to his cousins’ dismay. And his assets have surely been unfrozen.”

“He has other options,” Remus admitted easily. “But he’s always welcome with me.”

“Ah,” Severus said, waiting. Remus didn’t say anything else. He was being deliberately obtuse. “What are the two of you to each other?” he finally asked.

Remus laughed. “You didn’t wait as long to ask that as I thought you would,” he said. “I don’t know what we are. I want him to stay with me, in whatever capacity he wants. For as long as he wants. But there’s no rush to decide. There’s a lot for him to work through. I won’t make him make promises before he’s had more time.”

“That doesn’t sound like Black.”

“Sirius,” Remus corrected with a small smile. “And I didn’t say that he hasn’t tried to make promises. He always liked to jump into things headfirst.”

It made sense. Harry may have thrown forgiveness around like candy, but Severus knew well of Gryffindor stubbornness. Severus himself had earned many grudges from Gryffindors which had been nursed against him for decades. Even Lily… But Severus had deserved her censure. Surely the break between Remus and Sirius was less caustic.

This did not sound like a grudge. Sirius had been innocent, to everyone’s surprise. It was more likely that Remus was the more guilty party, as he had doubted Sirius for so many years.

Whether Remus was holding back to self-flagellate, or only to make Sirius think through his own actions, Severus was sure Sirius was in for a long wait. There was nothing more enduring than a Gryffindor’s guilt complex.

“I assume that won’t be a problem,” Remus said.

“As I said,” Severus shrugged, “you’re a stabilizing influence.”

“And you?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t be accused of stabilizing anyone,” Severus said.

“I think anyone who sees you with Harry would disagree,” Remus said. “But that’s not what I’m asking.”

“There’s no one,” Severus said. “That’s not an interest of mine.”

“Never?”

“Never is a strong word, but I’ve gone thirty-five years without it so far,” Severus said.

“Hm,” Remus said, but didn’t press.

They sat in nearly companionable silence until Sirius and Harry landed, sweaty and grinning, and interrupted with an excited recap of their makeshift game.

#

“What’s eating you?” Sirius asked.

It was near the end of summer, and he had spent at least one or two days a week in Sirius’s company since the sudden about-face between his guardian and godfather. He and Sirius were walking around the field outside Remus’s house while Remus and Severus sat on the porch. It had become something of a routine. Severus and Remus seemed to talk easily, and Severus never bemoaned their visits. Harry still kept an eye out in case Severus seemed annoyed, but if he was, he hid his emotions well.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

Sirius had caught his glance toward the house. “Severus?”

Harry huffed. “I’m not going to complain about you guys to each other.”

“So it is Severus.”

Harry stayed stubbornly quiet.

“Harry,” Sirius said, stretching his arms over his head and staring out toward the horizon. The field around Remus’s house seemed infinite. “You can talk to me. It’s not your job to manage me and Severus. We’re doing fine, aren’t we? Even if he’s a terrible cook.”

“I think you’re biased because of how good Remus is,” Harry said, though he agreed. He had offered to cook the last time Sirius and Remus were coming over, since he already cooked so many meals, but Severus had refused. When Harry had pointed out the Dursleys had made Harry cook for guests (even if Harry usually hadn’t been allowed to eat it), it had only strengthened Severus’s resolve. So instead of letting Harry cook for his family, they suffered through undersalted and overcooked dishes.

“Not my fault I picked a—best friend who can cook like a master,” Sirius said. “Remus has been waiting his entire life for me to be around to waste my money on fancy ingredients that he only needs for half a recipe.”

Harry glanced back toward the house. “Do you pay rent here?”

“What? No,” Sirius said. “Remus would never let me. The prick. I have more money than I know what to do with. I have to trick him into letting me spend it—if I act picky enough about the mushrooms and butter, he just lets me buy them.” He huffed. “As though I want a coin of that money for myself. Do you know what it’s like knowing your entire Gringotts account has nothing to do with you? It’s all family money.”

“I do,” Harry said softly.

Sirius gave him a firm look. “Not the same, Harry. Any money Lily and James left you is part of their love for you. They’ll be glad you have the resources to not rely on anyone you don’t want to. Besides, the Potter money came from Sleekeazy’s, not… Well, the generations of unsavory things my ancestors got into.” He didn’t talk much about his family, but he’d mentioned that his cousin was Malfoy’s mum, which had been enough for Harry.

“Severus pays for all my stuff now anyway,” Harry said.

“Good. Now, you’ve been off all day. Tell me.”

Is this what it was like to have a godfather? Someone who noticed your mood and offered to insert themselves into your life? Harry had not known what to expect when he had first met Sirius. There had been so much tension at first—with Sirius certain that Severus had brainwashed Harry, Severus sure that Sirius was trying to steal Harry away, and Ron disgusted by the whole lot. It had seemed just as likely that Sirius would slip out of Harry’s life as quickly as he had slipped into it.

Instead, he was still here, spending time with Harry _and_ Severus.

Harry sighed and brushed his hand over the tall grass along the path. “Ron invited me to the Quidditch World Cup,” he said. “His dad got invited to the Minister’s box.”

“That’s brilliant!” Sirius exclaimed. “James’s parents took us to one when we were in school. It was down in Belgium, so we stayed the week. Remus and I were talking about getting seats to this one too. Not in a box, mind, but still. We’ll have to go now.”

“Severus said no.”

“ _What_?”

“He said that these big events are never safe, especially with how useless the Ministry is,” Harry said in a rush. “And he can’t come with me.”

“As though the Weasleys would let you get into any danger,” Sirius said.

“The flying car Ron and I flew to school for second year has made Severus a bit skeptical of that,” Harry said.

“I’ll straighten out Severus,” Sirius said. “You just tell me about this flying car.”

“You can’t be mad at Severus,” Harry said.

“Relax, kid. I’m just going to talk to him.”

#

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sirius demanded as soon as he closed the door behind them.

Sirius had made a big deal of inviting Severus down to see Remus’s wine cellar after dinner, which was extraordinarily Edgar Allan Poe of him. He had given Harry at least four reassuring smiles, none of which had seemed to actually reassure the boy.

“A month,” Severus said thoughtfully. “You lasted longer than I expected.”

“Don’t try that,” Sirius said, jabbing a finger at him. “I’m not giving up. This politeness bullshit doesn’t mean I can’t call you out when you do something astronomically stupid. I’m sure it wouldn’t stop you.”

“Only one of us seems likely to do something, as you say, astronomically stupid.”

“Really? Care to explain why when Harry invited to the event of a lifetime with his newly-reconnected best friend, you told him he couldn’t go?”

Severus should have expected Harry to bring a complaint to Sirius. They were Quidditch aficionados, after all. Had Harry anticipated Sirius stepping in to argue on his behalf? Their careful month of friendliness would go up like smoke if Harry thought it was clever to set them against each other on purpose.

“I told him I didn’t believe it was safe,” Severus said. “The conversation is over.”

“Mate, it’s the Quidditch World Cup. Box seats. The Prophet says it’s going to be a game for the ages.”

“The Quidditch World Cup, one of the most publicized and crowded events of the year. In the Minister’s box, the biggest target at said biggest event.”

“If you think Harry is going to become a hermit just so he’s safe, you don’t know that kid,” Sirius said. “He’s like me. Being cooped up too long will kill him. Wizards aren’t the only ones with events like this. Harry plays Quidditch at Hogwarts, which always draws a big group from around England to watch—”

“And Dementors and villains hoping to hide their hexwork in a crowd. The Dark Lord’s servant nearly killed Harry during a match in his first year. And in his second, he crashed on the pitch hard enough to spend the night in the Hospital Wing.”

“And despite all that, you let Harry play again even after you took over his guardianship.”

“It’s different,” Severus said. “I’m there.”

“You don’t think the Weasleys would squeeze you in if it meant getting to have Harry along? They love him, and they know this would be the highlight of his life.”

“You know I still will be called to spy for Dumbledore if it comes to that again,” Severus snapped. “I need to maintain my connections with the Death Eaters as long as possible. There’s a reason Harry and I aren’t public about our relationship, and it’s not just because we value our privacy. Showing up with Harry and the Weasleys in the most public manner possible would be impossible to hide or explain away. I cannot attend.”

“Fine, use Polyjuice then. Aren’t you the fucking Hogwarts Potions Master?”

“Ah yes, because Polyjuice is infallible,” Severus drawled. “And if I’m caught? An ex-Death Eater sneaking into the Minister’s box at an international event might incline the Aurors toward aggression first and questions later.”

“You can defend yourself well enough.”

“At the risk of getting sent to Azkaban for resisting arrest? Think one thing through in your life, Black.”

“Sirius,” he corrected. “I told Harry this conversation would be fucking civil.”

Severus rubbed his forehead. “It’s Quidditch, _Sirius_. You can’t think it’s worth sending Harry into all that.”

“Harry’s at risk just by being alive. If Pettigrew had gotten away that night, he’d be scurrying back to his master as we speak. He was sure that he could bring Voldemort back.” Severus winced. “Remus has enough wards on this place to stop a werewolf from getting out. Words aren’t going anywhere.” He shook his head. “There will likely always be someone after Harry. He can’t be locked away like a zoo animal just because other people want to hurt him. That’s not a life.”

“I’m not locking him away. I’m protecting him.”

“What has he done this summer except shuttle back and forth between our house and yours?” Sirius asked.

“You expected us to go to Brighton?”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Merlin forbid. I know vampires can’t handle the sunlight.”

“There has never been anyone looking after Harry’s safety,” Severus said coolly. “That’s my responsibility now, and I don’t take it lightly.”

“There’s a thin line between protecting and controlling,” Sirius said. “Protect him from the people who want to hurt him. Don’t cage him. He deserves room to try new things. You think I’d believe that Petunia and her husband took Harry to ball games?”

“You seem to have strong opinions about Harry’s aunt and uncle,” Severus said carefully.

“I never met Tuney much—not like you did—but Lily had plenty of stories. And though you’re both cagey, I’m not actually an idiot. Harry didn’t leave a charmed home life to pick you.”

Severus kept his expression cool.

“The things he thinks make you special only make you human,” Sirius said. “There’s something skewed in the way he understands families. Trust me, I know when I see another one. I don’t need the details to get the picture. And frankly, your silence is loaded enough.”

Severus had promised Harry not to share his secret. That didn’t mean he needed to come up with a story to save the Dursleys from suspicion. Someday, when Harry chose, he would share the truth with his godfather—and hopefully learn he would not be met with the judgement and rejection he feared.

Sirius searched his face, and finally continued, “This is the kind of experience that shapes a kid’s life. Don’t leave him with regrets.”

“I know you’re friends with the Weasleys, but they have a history of being overly trusting and easily distracted by the sheer number of children under their care. Harry would not be under constant watch. Even you have to admit that in this situation, that could be a risk.”

“Remus and I were looking at tickets too,” Sirius said. “I wasn’t sure if that would be more helpful or damning. Harry can stay in our tent, if he wants. Or even…” He looked like he was pulling the words from thorns. “Can sit with us down with the plebians. He might hate us all for taking him away from that box, but if it’s that or nothing, he’ll get over it.”

Severus hummed. He hadn’t considered that as an option. Despite his clear desire for isolation, public favor had fallen extremely in Sirius’s direction. It was widely known that he was Harry’s godfather. A public appearance with Sirius would cause only excitement and joy, instead of confusion and suspicion. And Remus and Sirius were far less likely to be distracted from keeping Harry safe.

It was fortunate the question of guardianship hadn’t come down to a public vote. The media, which had spent the past two months lamenting the handsome man’s false imprisonment and brave escape to protect his friends’ son, would not have rested until Harry was Sirius’s.

“You haven’t made any public appearances since the pardon,” Severus commented.

“Can you blame a man for wanting to take some time in a lovely, quiet home in the middle of nowhere after years in that place?” Sirius asked. “Hopefully the reporters will have forgotten how interesting my story is among all the chaos of the Cup.”

“The reporter that gets an exclusive with Sirius Black and Harry Potter would have their career made,” Severus said.

“Shame they’ll never get it,” Sirius said. “Come on, Severus. You’re not alone in looking after Harry anymore, all right? It’s my priority too. You can’t go out in public with him. I can. Let him have this.”

Dear Merlin. Was Severus co-parenting a child with Sirius Black?

“Very well,” Severus said.

“Besides—wait, really?”

“If any harm comes to him, I’ll take it out of your hide with prejudice,” Severus said.

Sirius grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

#

In the end, Sirius and Remus didn’t have to buy their own tickets. As soon as Mr. Weasley mentioned to the Minister that Sirius was interested in attending, Sirius and Remus had been given a personal invitation to join the box as well.

“Classic Fudge,” Sirius had growled while telling Harry. “He can’t be bolloxed to make sure his prisoners are guilty, but he’s happy to hand out free Quidditch tickets for good press afterward.”

Harry stayed with Remus and Lupin in a tent pitched beside the Weasleys. Both appeared small and shabby from the outside, but opened into sprawling suites. Despite his clear irritation with the Minister, Sirius was as excited as any of the students as they explored the grounds before the game. He chatted with Mr. Weasley, dragged Harry to food carts, bought Remus embarrassingly bright Ireland merch, discussed the unexpected uses of the some of the stranger items with a pair of delighted Weasley twins, talked about security spells with Hermione, ruffled Ron’s hair, and debated player stats with Ginny.

Harry had heard the term ‘social butterfly’ before, but had never seen someone embody it so fully. Sirius flitted from person to person with ease, and only seemed to grow more energized.

It was only when people from outside their small group came up that the tension came back into Sirius’s smile. Everyone knew who Sirius was—his picture had been in every paper for the last year—and none seemed to be surprised to find him with Harry.

“Terrible what happened to you, just terrible,” a man commented, shaking Sirius’s hand vigorously. “Terry Tanengra, barrister. If you want to press charges, you could get a tidy sum from the Ministry for their monumental screw-up. I’d be happy to help.”

He placed a card in Sirius’s hand, which Sirius let drop to the ground without bothering to pretend to reach for it. “I’m all right, thanks.”

The man puffed up. “Don’t you think—”

“Come on, Sirius,” Harry said, stepping in and grabbing Sirius’s arm. “You were going to try to win me one of those Snitch plushes.”

Sirius gave Harry a strained, grateful look.

“So, are you living with your godfather now?” Seamus Finnegan asked when they ran into him a few minutes later. He was bedecked aggressively in Irish gear. “That’s awesome.”

“Sirius is great,” Harry deflected.

“Can’t imagine all that. But it’s all worked out now—the Boy Who Lived and the Man Who…” He shrugged. “I thought I had something there.”

“Seamus, you know me,” Harry said. “You know all of that’s just… Newspaper stuff.”

“The rest of the dorm doesn’t end up in the newspaper,” Seamus pointed out.

“Well, no, but—”

Seamus’s cousin, who looked startlingly like Bill Weasley, interrupted to drag Seamus away.

“You know,” Ron commented as they made their way into the stadium, “Sirius might be even more famous than you.”

“Me for my parents dying, him for being wrongly imprisoned by soul-sucking monsters for more than a decade,” Harry said. “Don’t know why more people aren’t begging for fame.”

“Well, I mean. It’s not all bad. It did get you here,” Ron pointed out.

“Your dad got me here,” Harry said. “Sirius’s ticket was a separate thing. You can’t tell me you’d want his kind of fame.”

“I guess not,” Ron admitted. “The Dementors were bad enough for a few minutes. I wouldn’t want to have to keep thinking about them. Professor Lupin is helping play interference, though. They look like they’ve gotten back to normal since the Shrieking Shack. If you accuse me of being a murderer for twelve years, don’t expect such a nice welcome back.”

Harry huffed. “Yeah, you either,” he said, but watched as Remus helped Sirius make his excuses to another handsy interloper.

If Sirius had held any sort of grudge against Remus, Harry had seen no evidence. From the moment he’d returned, he’d seemed nothing but grateful to have Remus back in his life. They orbited around each other like the earth and the moon.

#

The game was like no Quidditch Harry had ever seen. When Victor Krum dove and caught the Snitch, ending the game but handing the win to Ireland, Harry yelled and cheered with the rest of the stadium. Sirius, flushed though Remus had stopped him after two butterbeers, was going hoarse from all the shouting. Even Remus was cheering, clapping loudly and beaming.

“What a game,” Sirius said again when they finally went into their tent for the night.

Harry, still buzzing with excitement, nodded. “No wonder Ron is in love with Krum. That was amazing. I’ve never seen a Seeker like that.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sirius said loyally.

“I don’t know what Severus was so worried about,” Harry said, sitting in one of the armchairs which had come with the tent. He couldn’t imagine having to hear about all of this from Ron and Hermione secondhand.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, well, I would have been so cross with him if he’d stopped me from coming. Nothing happened, and it was a great game.”

“He had his reasons.”

Harry frowned at him. “You’re the one who talked him into letting me come. You know he wasn’t being fair.”

“I know, but… Arthur said there were some rumblings about someone trying to cause a problem, but the Aurors on duty handled it already,” Sirius said. “They kept it quiet.”

“Sirius,” Remus chided quietly.

“What kind of problem?” Harry asked.

“Dark wizards thinking to make a statement. Severus was right about that part—these big events are a platform people wait years to find. Still, it’s fine. You’re safe.” Sirius frowned, cheer fading like water down a drain. “Peter getting the Kiss banked some fires, you know. Every time another high-profile _rat_ in You-Know-Who’s organization gets taken down and removed from the board, even so many years later, it’s a reminder that they lost the war. We’re just cleaning out the last traces now.”

“Sirius,” Remus said again.

“What? Harry deserves to know,” Sirius said.

“We’re having a fun night,” Remus reminded him.

“I know, I know,” Sirius said. He flopped into the chair beside Harry. “I just—Harry, you know Severus would have come if he could have.”

“Severus doesn’t really like sports,” Harry said, confused. Sirius had said it was all right for Harry to complain to him about Severus, but he definitely hadn’t expected Sirius to defend him. It made Harry feel unsettled—and a bit like he’d betrayed Severus by saying anything at all. If even _Sirius_ thought Harry was being unfair to Severus…

“I know, but. A lot of people here thought I was your guardian now. I got questions all day. I’m sure you did too.”

“I like Severus being my guardian,” Harry said. “I was just whinging. Don’t tell him I said all that. I know he’s great.”

“I know, Harry,” Sirius said. “That’s not what I’m saying. You’re allowed to whine about your guardian, especially to me.”

“I don’t want to be ungrateful,” Harry said, still uncomfortable.

“I know you love Severus, kid,” Sirius said. “Today’s just the first time I really realized how much you’re both having to give up to keep it secret. He can’t be with you to look after you all the time, and neither of you can be honest with people. Neither of you deserve that.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I… You and Severus really are friends now, aren’t you.”

“I guess we are,” Sirius said. “I do still wish I were your guardian, you know. But Severus is doing a bang-up job, and I don’t like taking credit for other people’s work. No one out there understands a damn thing about any of us. People should know what Severus is really like.” He shrugged. “What I mean is—if he had stopped you from coming tonight, it would only have been because he cares about you.”

“I know,” Harry said, voice thick.

“A lot of people care about you, Harry. More than you know,” Sirius said.

“It’s true,” Remus said. He stood behind Sirius’s chair and rubbed one of Sirius’s shoulders.

Harry had to swallow. He clung to the part of the conversation he understood. “I really didn’t mean to complain about Severus.”

“Kids don’t always have to be grateful,” Sirius said. “That’s not going to change how any of us feel about you.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. For all of his joking and ceaseless activity, Sirius saw more than Harry had realized. “I… Thanks.”

“I know I didn’t understand it at first,” Sirius said. “But I also picked my own family. Severus isn’t exactly like the Potters, but he’s right for you. It’s about picking the people you want in your life, and you’ve done that.”

“That includes you two also, you know,” Harry said, face feeling warm.

Sirius beamed at him.

“Nothing like Quidditch to bring people together,” Remus said, slightly dry. “Thank you, Harry.” He pulled up a chair beside Sirius and floated a tea pot over the fire.

“You know,” Sirius added, glancing at Remus and seeming to get a reassurance, he added, “if you ever want to tell us about why you ended up with Severus, you can. Remus and I are both here for you.”

“How do you know there was a reason?” Harry asked, folding his arms. Remus had warned Harry during his first visit to his house that Sirius had questions about the Dursleys. He hated the idea of them talking about him behind his back.

“People don’t usually move in with their professors without a reason,” Sirius pointed out. “And, Harry, you…”

He looked at Remus again.

“Sirius’s family was cold. They expected the perfect heir to a toxic legacy, and Sirius was always meant to be more than that. I was bitten when I was young, and my parents did not know how to look at me as a son and not a monster,” Remus said, waving his wand to make the teapot pour itself into mugs that floated over to each of them. “You remind us a bit of ourselves when we were in Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” Harry said, accepting the floating mug. There was tea inside, steaming gently and smelling of home.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Sirius said quickly. “I just… wanted you to know you could.”

Harry stared down into the mug. There was green paint smudged on the back of his thumb. “The Dursleys… They weren’t really happy to have another kid to take care of. They only ever wanted one kid, and they already had Dudley.”

They didn’t interrupt, so to the sounds of cheering and laughter from the fans still celebrating the Irish win outside, Harry told Remus and Sirius about growing up with the Dursleys. It was different than it had been with Severus, or even Ron. Until tonight, Harry had been scared to tell them. The fear that other people would think Severus and Harry had been overreacting was still strong inside him, like bile. But they had asked, and they sat across from him listening without laughter or skepticism.

At some point, Sirius reached out and grabbed Remus’s hand, as though overwhelmed. He didn’t seem like he thought Harry was weak or silly. He looked like the story was hurting him.

Maybe Harry should have stopped then. He didn’t want this to burden either of them.

But there was something magical about _seeing_ how much they cared.

“That’s when I went to Severus’s house. It was just supposed to be for the summer, but eventually all of that…came out. He said it was wrong, what they’d been doing. That it was okay to need medicine—even to take a break from working to rest. He makes sure I eat at least three times a day, even when I fail a test or mess up his garden. He didn’t want me to go back to the Dursleys.”

“I imagine not,” Remus said quietly.

“You haven’t seen them since last summer?” Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think any of us want that.”

“You ran away, disappeared, and they never even…” Sirius cut himself off. “They had no idea what they had with you. How _lucky_ they were.”

Harry twisted his hands, feeling overwhelmed tears welling hot in his eyes. He forced them back, taking a deep breath.

“Merlin, I wish I’d been there,” Sirius exclaimed. “You should have grown up with me, like you were supposed to. You should have grown up with _Lily and James_. If Lily knew what Petunia had done… She would have hexed Petunia’s ears off.”

“Lily could hold a grudge,” Remus said fondly, but with a sharp edge.

“James would have made popcorn. He loved seeing Lily pissed off at someone other than him,” Sirius said. “Merlin, those monsters.”

Harry frowned. “They never wanted me, and I… It’s not like I loved them. It’s not like I made it easy.”

“You didn’t deserve any of that,” Sirius said, voice thick with emotion. “You were a baby. You shouldn’t have had to earn anything. If things were different, if Petunia and her husband had died and your parents had raised your cousin. They would have given that brat the world.”

Harry had never thought of that. What would it have been like? His parents would have been kind to Dudley, and wouldn’t have let Dudley go Harry Hunting. Maybe Dudley would have been more like the cousins Harry saw on the telly. Maybe they could have been friends.

“I’m glad you told us, Harry,” Remus said. “That was brave.”

The tears threatened to rise again. They understood Harry. They were angry and sad for him. They still cared about him, even now. “Sorry for talking your ears off. I know today was supposed to be fun.”

“Come on, Harry,” Sirius said. “Remus likes being earnest. Don’t take that away from him. We’re the ones who asked you to talk, remember?”

“Sorry, right.” Harry mustered a smile. It came more easily than he expected. He felt lighter, after all that. “Thanks for listening.”

“There you go,” Sirius said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there before, but we’re here now. You’ve got me and Remus and Severus for as long as you need us—and longer. Your aunt and uncle lost their chance.”

#

The Weasleys volunteered to take Harry shopping in Diagon Alley for supplies for his fourth year, and Severus readily agreed. They had managed not to lose him or get him killed at the Quidditch World Cup the week before, and Severus would avoid Diagon Alley whenever given the chance. The best supplies—other than wands, perhaps—were far from that tourist trap, and Severus would need to rely on disguise charms to escort Harry.

Fortunately, Harry had been excited to continue his tradition of shopping with the Weasleys and Hermione. He had taken Severus’s coin pouch with rolled eyes and a reminder that he had his own money, and Flooed to the Burrow to travel into London with the others.

Severus had just settled in on his armchair to read through the latest issue of Potions Quarterly when the Floo flared green again.

He looked up, mouth open to ask Harry what he had forgotten, when Sirius Black stormed into his living room.

“Harry’s gone,” Severus commented.

“I know Harry’s gone,” Sirius snapped. “I told Molly to send me a Patronus when the coast was clear.” His chest was heaving and his eyes were flashing.

“You could have asked me,” Severus pointed out. He kept his voice mild, though he was getting slightly concerned. Sirius had not even been this frothed about Severus trying to stop Harry from attending the World Cup.

“I couldn’t,” Sirius said. “I knew once I started talking to you, I’d start yelling and wouldn’t stop.”

“Merlin,” Severus muttered. Sirius certainly hadn’t gotten less dramatic with age. “Go on, then. What have I done now?”

“I need to know what’s been done about the Dursleys.”

“Pardon?”

“Harry told us all about it after the match,” Sirius said.

Severus was hit with an overwhelming sense of pride in Harry. He had spent most of the start of summer looking at Sirius as though expecting him to finally see Harry clearly and walk out the door. It had taken verbal gymnastics for Severus to convince Harry to tell him about the Dursleys the first time. But Harry had found the courage to trust his godfather, trust Remus Lupin, and bare a piece of him he had hidden for years.

Severus would never stop being awed at Harry’s bravery.

Sirius continued, “I thanked him for talking to us, gave him a hug, patted him on the back. Told him to put them out of his mind and move forward. Do you know. The fucking restraint. I’ve used. Not to fly over to wherever the hell they live. This past week?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Remus threatened to lock me in his basement if I tried it before talking to you, but if Harry knew I was here asking you about it…”

Severus nodded. “I understand.”

“Harry barely wanted to talk about it in the first place,” Sirius said as though Severus hadn’t already agreed. “I think if he had his way, everyone would forget it happened and move on. He doesn’t like people knowing what he went through. The savior of the wizarding world, and he’s afraid people will pity him.”

“He’s more accustomed to not being believed,” Severus said.

Sirius shook his head. “Of course. Of course he was stuck dealing with it on his own for so long. The kid can’t catch a fucking break.”

“We’re trying to fix that,” Severus reminded him.

“And we’re going to do a damn good job,” Sirius said. “But that’s not what I want to know. I want to know what’s happened to the Dursleys.”

“I don’t know,” Severus said.

“What.”

“Dumbledore insisted on handling it.”

“And you let him? Come on. I’ve met you. When’s the last time you let revenge slip out of your hands?” Sirius crossed his arms. “Or did you just not care?”

“Dumbledore assured me he had it handled, and I chose not to look closer because I’m not eager to abandon Harry by being thrown in Azkaban,” Severus said silkily.

“They can’t just get away with it,” Sirius snarled.

“What should we do, Sirius? We’re wizards. They’re Muggles—and Dumbledore is watching them. I could have gone and made them pay for making that boy afraid of his own shadow. I could have struck a fear in them so deep that they’d never leave their house again. I could have scrubbed their cowardly existences off the planet. And I could have lost Harry as soon as I’d gotten him.”

“Dumbledore couldn’t blame us,” Sirius said. “They starved him, Severus. They used him as a punching bag. They yelled at him for doing accidental magic. They treated him like a house-elf. Worse than a house-elf.”

“I’m well-aware,” Severus said. “Are you willing to risk leaving Harry on his own to make them pay? To have Dumbledore or the Ministry take him away from us?”

“You never missed a chance at revenge in school,” Sirius pointed out, but his shoulders were slumped. “This isn’t some petty trick. They hurt him, Severus. They hurt Harry.”

“I know.”

“I stomach it by focusing on Harry. Going after the Dursleys would be for me,” Severus said. “Harry doesn’t want or need that. What he needs is support now. He needs…”

“Us,” Sirius said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I hate when you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Severus drawled.

Sirius laughed, and then repeated, “ _Us_. Who would have thought?” He shook his head. “Harry deserved to have Lily and James in his life. But if we’re the ones he’s got, well—we’re both stubborn bastards. We’ll figure it out.”

“Harry seems content with the arrangement.”

“I wasn’t sure he’d ever tell me what happened,” Sirius said. He flopped onto the couch beside Severus’s armchair as though he owned the house. “I have you to thank for it. He said you were the first person who made it clear that the Dursleys were wrong. That he deserved better.”

“I shouldn’t have been,” Severus said.

“Yeah, well,” Sirius said. “Maybe someone else should have noticed. But people see what they want to see.”

“I… I’m not immune to that,” Severus admitted.

“Everyone makes assumptions. The question is whether you can see the truth and change your perception,” he countered. “Most people make their judgement, and will hold onto it with their teeth until the end of time. They’ll get mad at someone for not changing to meet their expectations, no matter how bullshit and arbitrary those expectations are.” He hummed. “And even if we’re not wrong about someone, even if hypothetically someone _did_ used to be a great wanker, they can change. It’s about being able to see who people are now that matters.”

“This no longer feels like we’re talking about Harry,” Severus said dryly.

“We’re not,” Sirius said with a bright laugh. “I thought Slytherins preferred sideways talk.”

“We do. You don’t need to say anything else.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and smirked. “The great Slytherin weakness.” He stretched his arms over his head. “I’m parched. Aren’t you going to offer me a cuppa?”

“You barged in without warning to yell at me for not murdering some Muggles,” Severus pointed out.

“Is that a no?”

Severus sighed and summoned his kettle.

#

It was the first time Harry had ever been sad to see summer end.

Remus and Severus would be at school with him, though they wouldn’t be drinking tea and playing chess with him. It was the loss of Sirius that hit Harry like a blow. He had only just gotten his godfather. How was he supposed to spend the entire semester away from him?

Harry hugged him tightly goodbye at the train station. Severus was riding on the train again, as he’d declared he’d do going forward after the Dementor incident, but had already boarded along with Remus. Sirius was the one officially seeing Harry off. Severus had declared that the rumor of Sirius being Harry’s legal guardian was one worth cultivating.

“I’m going to miss you,” Harry said quietly. They were still drawing attention the way they had at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry had heard at least two people whisper Sirius’s name as he’d walked past.

“Write letters,” Sirius suggested. “If I don’t see Hedwig at least once a week, I’ll be right disappointed.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “I will.”

“Plus, visitors are allowed to come for…certain activities,” Sirius said.

“Maybe you can come to my Quidditch matches,” Harry suggested.

“Right, yeah,” Sirius said vaguely. When Harry frowned, Sirius said, “You’ve got to keep sharp on that Firebolt. I expect you’ll be practicing a lot. We’ll play one-on-one next holiday to see how you’re doing.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and looked at him with pride. “Christmas will be here before you know it.”

On the train, reunited with Hermione and Ron again, Harry watched Sirius out the window. Sirius smiled and waved, but he looked very alone on the massive platform.

When he was out of view, Harry turned back and sighed.

“Harry,” Hermione said, leaning forward. “Do you think Professor Snape could give us a little extra tutoring? I mean, if we happen to visit you in his quarters, and we happen to have a question…”

“Lay off it, Hermione,” Ron said. “Not everyone wants to talk about school every second of the day. Not even professors.”

“Severus might,” Harry admitted. “You’d be amazed by how much time he spends on potions. He brews for the Hospital Wing, you know, along with testing new ideas.” He held up a hand. “He’s still not going to be very nice in class. It would be suspicious.”

“Of course,” Hermione sniffed. “I’m sure it’s very useful for Dumbledore to have someone with an in if someone like Pettigrew ever does make it back to You-Know-Who. But no one has to know if I stop by with the occasional theoretical question…”

Harry spent the rest of the train ride assuring Hermione she was still ahead of him going into their fourth year. Ron tuned them out with the skill of someone with six siblings, doodling on a parchment.

At the welcome feast, Dumbledore announced that there would be no Quidditch—instead, the school would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.

“Wicked,” Ron said as they walked up to Gryffindor Tower, eyes shining with the idea of the prize money. “Harry, you must have known, right? Two Hogwarts professors around all summer. _They_ must have known.”

“They didn’t let a hint drop,” Harry said. “Sirius knew too, though. He almost gave it away at the station today.” He frowned. “I wish Quidditch didn’t have to be canceled.” He had been looking forward to having Sirius cheering for him in the crowd. Severus always watched, but he couldn’t give away that he was rooting for Harry.

“Merlin, the Triwizard Tournament, though,” Ron said, still awed.

“What is it with school and encouraging students to do deadly stunts?” Hermione asked. “It’s like Dumbledore is hoping for someone to die.”

#

“It’s like Dumbledore is hoping for someone to die,” Severus said to Minerva.

They were drinking tea in her office a few weeks after the start of the semester. They had planned to meet earlier, but term start always was more exhausting than expected. Severus found the time, though—he didn’t need her cornering him in the teacher’s lounge again.

“There are more safeguards on this Tournament that there are at Gringotts,” Minerva said. “The eyes of the world are on this match. Fudge—and Dumbledore—won’t be responsible for starting an international incident.”

“I’m just glad Harry and his little friends will be far from it. I’ve told Harry quite firmly, and he promised me not to try anything foolish.”

“That is what the Age Line is for,” Minerva commented.

“Please. You’ve been a professor far longer than I have. As I had told the Headmaster that even with the line, there are sure to be stupid kids trying to enter. If we don’t see at least one aging spell or potion, I’ll eat my hat. And even those who entered legally are too young to be gladiators for the world’s entertainment.”

“And what did Albus say to that?”

“He laughed and moved ahead,” Severus said. “As usual.”

“You were never this worried about the students before,” she said. “If this had happened three years ago, you’d have said anyone fool-headed enough to enter deserved whatever they got.”

“Half of my job is making sure my students don’t reap the consequences of their idiotic mistakes,” Severus said. “Otherwise you’d see far more students in the Hospital Wing from inhaling toxic fumes or turning their hands into cabbages.”

“Still, paternal is a good look on you.”

Severus scowled at her. “Did you invite me to tea just to tease me?”

“Partially, though I am being serious. I wanted to hear how you’ve been getting on. To hear Sirius tell it, you’ve teamed up since summer started. If I’d had to place a bet on how this summer would go—and Elsie tried to get me to after what she saw at the party—I would not have expected peace so quickly. The two of you hold grudges like other people hold onto their wedding rings.”

“Harry was more important,” Severus said simply.

“I didn’t know what to think when I learned you had taken over as his guardian. I was a bit worried, Severus. Softness doesn’t come easily to you.”

He raised a sharp eyebrow at her.

“Yes, yes, nor to me. But I never adopted a kid,” she said, pointing at him. “I know my strengths. Clearly I underestimated yours. A truce with Sirius for the sake of Harry. I have to say that I’m proud of you, Severus.”

“Sirius is not as terrible as he once was,” Severus allowed.

“He said something similar about you,” Minerva said. “You’ve both had some difficult times since school. I’m glad you can see who the other has become.” She folded her hands and looked at him seriously. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you as a colleague, Severus. I’ll be excited to see what parenthood brings for you.”

“Parenthood,” Severus repeated cautiously, tasting the word in his mouth.

“That’s what it’s called when you raise a child. You’re his legal guardian, remember?”

“Parenthood implies… snotty noses and bottle-feeding,” Severus said.

“Parenthood doesn’t end when a child turns eight, Severus. Unless you plan on stepping away when Harry turns seventeen, parenthood is a lifetime position. If you planned on tossing Harry out on his ear when he came of age, I don’t imagine you would have fought so hard to keep him under your care.”

“Of course not,” Severus said, though he hadn’t thought so very far ahead. He wanted to be there for Harry. Each year seemed to be its own trial of dangers and obstacles.

He imagined their lives in five years. Ten years. Thirty years. Harry did not seem the type to abandon family easily. He had a vision of a beaming Harry Severus’s current age striding into Spinner’s End, grown and healthy. Would Harry ever have children of his own? Severus was not good with infants, but to help Harry? He would learn.

Severus’s dreams of a quiet, isolated retirement were certainly no longer in the cards. He doubted he’d have a holiday alone again, and the thought was warming. After all he had done, Severus had not imagined landing in a future with people to care about him.

Would Sirius still insist on challenging the children to Quidditch matches? Remus would likely be the best of them with any younger children. He had patience to spare.

He stared down at his teacup, trying to contain his whirling thoughts. He was imagining a future where Sirius and Remus remained a regular presence. And it felt _natural_. They were a part of Harry, and had become engrained in Severus’s routines. That intertwining would surely only get worse as time went on.

He had known taking Harry in would bring changes to his life, but he could never have foreseen this.

“He’s lucky to have you, you know,” Minerva said gently.

“I believe it’s the other way around,” Severus said, and took a sip of his tea.

#

Harry missed Quidditch, but the Tournament was, at least, a fantastic distraction through the fall semester. Class seemed to fly by as the other schools arrived at Hogwarts, the of-age students put their names in the Goblet of Fire, and the three champions were selected. Other than having to avoid a blonde reporter who seemed desperate to hear about Harry’s touching reunion with Sirius, it was all good fun.

Harry sat with his friends in the stands while the champions faced down dragons on the Quidditch pitch. Everyone was cheering for their school champion raucously. Harry had never been in the stands at Hogwarts during a Quidditch match. Did the people on the field always seem so small?

It was bittersweet to be at the field and not playing. The cancellation of Quidditch was driving the whole team mad. Harry kept practicing, but it felt empty to run drills without a match to look forward to.

It was a strange echo of the Quidditch World Cup more than any memory Harry had at Hogwarts—though Remus was across the field with Severus in the teachers’ stand.

And Sirius hadn’t shown up.

“I wish I had been the champion,” Ron commented wistfully, watching Fleur dodge the dragon’s large fangs.

“Oh, you reckon?” Hermione challenged. “This is really dangerous, Ron.”

“Charlie probably could have given me a clue how to get by them,” Ron said.

“I’m with Hermione,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t want to do it. All these people watching to see if you get hurt. No thanks.”

“I’m sure this is small fry to you,” Ron said. “You’ve fought a basilisk, and that wasn’t even with the entire Ministry watching to protect you. This is probably too easy for your taste. I just think younger students should have gotten a chance at that prize money too.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a tired look, but Harry loyally said, “I bet you would have won.”

#

Severus sat in his quarters, waiting for a response from his Patronus, and dwelled on the recklessness of the Tournament.

The Floo turned green, and a head appeared in the flames. Severus put aside his worries about the Tournament for more pressing matters. “Sirius,” he greeted.

Sirius looked terrible. His hair hung in a greasy curtain around his head, and there were circles under his eyes so dark they were clear even in the uneven firelight. He had lost weight—his cheekbones were like blades. “You summoned me?” Sirius asked dryly.

“The first task was yesterday,” Severus said. “Of the Triwizard Tournament. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure. It seems to be the front of the Prophet every day lately.”

“What do you want, Severus?”

Severus eyed Sirius for a long moment. “Do you want a blackberry tart?”

“I—what?” Sirius asked.

“The house-elves send up treats for Harry, even when he doesn’t come by.”

“You’re sure they aren’t sending them up for you?” Sirius asked. “You do look like you could use some fattening up.”

“They’re taking the wrong approach if they’re sending sweets,” Severus said. “I’ve never had much of a sweet-tooth. Do you want one or not? Surely you’ve missed the house-elves baking.” And Remus’s baking. He had cooked every meal and dessert they’d had with the pair all summer.

“Well, all right,” Sirius said doubtfully.

“Excellent.” Severus levitated a tart across to the fireplace, where Sirius snatched it from the air with his teeth. “Now, you eat while I talk.”

Sirius scowled at him, but didn’t stop chewing.

“You disappointed Harry yesterday. I know he wrote you a letter—more than one—asking you to come to the trial. There’s no Quidditch this year, which is what he really wanted you to be here for, but he was still looking forward to seeing you. It’s been months, Sirius. Months.”

Sirius opened his mouth, and Severus interrupted, “Merlin’s beard, please swallow before you start talking.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Harry didn’t know I existed until last year. He’s perfectly capable of surviving without me for a bit. He has you here, after all.”

“And Remus,” Severus said.

Sirius winced.

“Tell me,” Severus said silkily, “that this entire mess isn’t because of some lovers’ spat between you two. Remus told me he also asked you to come to the trial. What in the world could have happened since last week?”

“Nothing, all right?” Sirius said. “We’re fine. Everyone’s fucking fine.”

“Right.”

“They are,” Sirius said. “They’re completely fine without me.”

“And how would you know that if you haven’t spoken to them?” Severus asked. “Merlin, you need out of that house. You’re at Grimmauld Place, aren’t you?”

“Couldn’t stay at Remus’s without him, now could I?”

“Did he say that, or is that another invention of your deluded mind, like this theory that both Remus and Harry have moved on without you in less than three months?”

Sirius just scowled at him. He looked the way he had in the Shrieking Shack that night in the spring. Severus had wondered at how well Sirius had seemed to adjust to life after Azkaban, but perhaps there were more scars there than he had realized. Sirius Black was a Gryffindor to his bones, and even before Azkaban he had not been the type to be happy with solitude.

The fool was digging his own damn grave.

“Harry talks about you all the time. He was looking forward to seeing you this weekend.” Severus sneered. Kindness did not seem to be working, but Severus had never been limited to that option. “You’ve only been in his life since the start of summer. I’m impressed you’ve already become a deadbeat.”

“That’s not on,” Sirius snapped.

“Isn’t it? You’re acting like a child who didn’t get the Christmas presents he wanted, not an adult with responsibilities,” Severus said.

“What do you care if I am?” Sirius said. “You wanted me out of his life from the second I walked into it. You should be throwing a parade.”

“You convinced me you would be good for Harry,” Severus said. “Prove it.”

“They’re better off without me,” Sirius said.

“You don’t get to make that decision.”

“Why not?”

“Because yours isn’t the opinion I care about,” Severus said coolly. “Harry forced me to let you into his life. Now I’m going to force you to stay.”

“Severus,” Sirius said, sounding lost.

“There’s a Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks,” Severus said. “Be there. Surprise Harry. Take him for a butterbeer, and then apologize to Remus. They’re both fools of Gryffindors. They’ll forgive you this nonsense.”

“Should they?” Sirius asked.

“Does it matter?” Severus returned. “If you’re who they want, who are you to tell them otherwise?”

“That’s selfish. They deserve better.”

“Most likely,” Severus said. “But you’re not going to change their minds about you, no matter how much of an idiot you are. You can either make them both suffer by dragging this out, or accept your fate and try to be better for them.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Obviously.”

“Hm,” Sirius said. “I hope you don’t talk like this to your Slytherins.”

“I believe it’s called tough love. Take another blackberry tart and get out of my fireplace.”

#

“Hey, Moony!”

Harry turned at the sound of the familiar voice bouncing off the narrow streets of Hogsmeade just in time to see Sirius run into Remus, dip him, and kiss him soundly.

The crowd of students visiting the village for the weekend walked around them. The Hogwarts students whispered to each other—Harry wasn’t sure whether it was because of Sirius’s new fame or because it was their professor being snogged in the middle of the street. Several Beauxbatons students clapped.

Rita Skeeter shouted at her cameraman to get a photo before they both slipped on a patch of ice and fell to the cobblestones. It was the first week of December, but Harry had been sure the street was clear.

Hermione, pocketing her wand, said to Harry, “Sirius certainly knows how to make an entrance. I didn’t know he was visiting this weekend.”

Harry watched his godfather and Remus break apart and start talking in low voices. Sirius’s hands were on Remus’s face. “I didn’t know they were together.”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “Wasn’t Sirius living with Professor Lupin all summer?”

#

For the first time, Harry went home for Christmas.

After showing up at Hogsmeade and snaring Remus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in for lunch at the Three Broomsticks, Sirius had insisted Harry come visit for Christmas. He had started to explain the renovations he was making to Grimmauld Place, but Remus had smoothly put in that they would celebrate the holiday together at his house.

In the end, neither Severus nor Remus could spend the whole break away from Hogwarts, so they decided to have a joint celebration on Christmas Eve.

Severus offered to bring a few dishes, but was turned down, so they showed up at Remus’s house with only a stack of presents. Sirius greeted them at the door with a Santa hat and a broad smile on.

“Ignore all the mistletoe,” Remus said as he brought out a tray of drinks for them in the sitting room. Green leaves were hanging from nearly every threshold. “Sirius thought it would be funny to stick them onto anything that stayed still long enough.”

When Remus walked back toward the kitchen, Sirius ran to intercept him at the doorway and snog him. Remus rolled his eyes, but gave Sirius another kiss before going back to the stove.

Remus was not the only victim. When Harry and Sirius passed each other under the mistletoe by the fire, Sirius kissed him soundly on the forehead. Aunt Petunia used to kiss Dudley like that. Harry had always thought it made Dudley look like a baby. But it felt nice.

When Severus passed Sirius under a floating mistletoe in the middle of the room, they both froze for an instant. Harry stared, eyes wide.

Severus started to brush past, but Sirius grabbed his arm and pulled him close. “Tradition,” he said, before laying a smacking kiss on Severus’s cheek. Severus sighed, but did not pull away as Sirius patted the cheek he’d just kissed. “Glad you’re here, mate,” he said.

“Astonishingly,” Severus said mildly, “I feel the same.”

They had dinner in the dining room, and then retired with full bellies back to the sitting room. Sirius was in a fine mood, laughing so hard he would probably lose his voice by morning. Severus was relaxed and casual, making dry comments that set up Sirius perfectly for his next joke. Remus leaned against Sirius on the couch, more comfortable than Harry had ever seen him.

Harry felt flushed and happy. In the spring, he would never have imagined this. Sirius and Severus had been at each other’s throats, with Harry caught in the middle.

At the end of his second year, Harry had not dreamed he would have any family at all besides the Dursleys. His aunt and uncle would not have called this a family—his guardian, his godfather, and his godfather’s partner. It was too chaotic, too informal.

Harry could not imagine anything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thanks again to everyone who encouraged me over the years to write this follow-up! I had a lot of fun coming back into this world.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://starknjarvis27.tumblr.com/)!


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